Dream a Little Harder
by The.Dragon.Singer
Summary: Miss Took lived with her bachelor cousin, Bilbo Baggins, in Bag End and her hobbit-abrasive attitude and behavior was well known about the Shire. She was not entirely hobbit, you see, but rather only half of a Halfling… and most importantly, she never went anywhere without a sword.
1. An Unexpected Introduction

"Afternoon, Miss Took."

"Yes, it is." Came the reply. It was followed by an annoyed but well-meaning sigh, and then the hobbit doing the sighing continued about his day.

Miss Took's rather hobbit-abrasive attitude and behavior was well known about the Shire. While not rude, she was certainly not in the practice of using the usual hobbitish manners. She meant well, of course, but one could only expect so much from one who had not grown her entire life in the manner-aware Shire. This was to be expected of Miss Took, however, considering her origins and her age.

The hobbits were well used to her now, though they didn't necessarily like her all that much – save a few, such as her cousins and Hamfast Gamgee, who liked practically everyone.

Miss Took was odd and she generated a good bit of gossip from the hobbit-ladies of Hobbiton. She was not entirely hobbit, you see, but rather only half of a Halfling. Not to say she didn't have qualities of a Hobbit; she had thick soles on her feet – though they were small feet and the soles still required her to wear boots- and her hair was curly – but not the perfect ringlets of the other hobbit lasses. She was large, but only in bone structure, for she certainly didn't have the pudge to pad her as the others did.

"Good afternoon, Miss Took. Care to have a look at my potatoes?"

"Not today."

"Right. Yes. I can see that you're busy." Called the hobbit man after the quickly moving Took, who was heading for the Forest's edge.

Miss Took was not a lady. She was in the respects of gender…..but that was where her lady status ended. She preferred trousers to skirts – not that she wouldn't wear them – and she rarely wore the stiff corsets of the Shire – instead she wore breast bindings, from the other races in Middle Earth – and most importantly, Miss Took never went anywhere without a sword.

Currently, of course, she had it on her person, but she was also carrying a beautifully crafted bow along with her today. The hobbits knew what this meant; the Took woman was going hunting, and there was likely to be some fresh venison in the Shire by the end of the day.

Miss Took was far past her maturity, and to the surprise of those hobbit-lads and hobbit-lasses who still were curious about her, Miss Took was going on eighty-one and didn't show a single graying hair. This being said, it was well past time – according to many hobbits – that Miss Took should have been courted and married. Not for lack of trying on some of her year-mate hobbits, such as Rollo Boffin or Gorbadoc Brandybuck; Miss Took simply wasn't interested.

That being said, she had vanished for over four decades and had only just returned at the end of the year before. She was a very different lass than the one who had left the Shire, to the dismay of the old Hobbits.

Miss Took lived with her bachelor cousin, Bilbo Baggins, in Bag End. Fitting really, for the two uninterested parties to be sharing accommodations. There were no rumors that Bilbo and his strange cousin were romantically involved at all; it was quite socially acceptable that Bilbo had his older cousin around - many hobbit-lasses were hoping that she would talk some sense into the unobtainable catch of a Baggins.

The opposite was true; Bilbo's cousin did nothing but encourage him to remain a bachelor, sprouting nonsense of only having one true love.

On this particular day, as Miss Took passed through Hobbiton's market, Bilbo Baggins was good morning'd into hosting a wizard's company for tea, quite accidentally, thank you very much.

It was not until the sun had started to set that the cousins saw one another. Bilbo Baggins was seated in his armchair with his hairy feet towards the crackling fire when the door banged open. He barely jumped, as this was his cousin's usual way of entering.

"Boots." He called into the foyer from his spot without bothering to look up from his book. A pair of thumps against the floor answered his call and when he finally looked up it was to his cousin in the rounded doorway to the sitting room.

"Evening, cousin." She smirked, streaking blood across her cheek. Bilbo grimaced at the action and her smirk became a smile. She knew what she was doing – she usually did – and she chuckled. "Fine day for hunting."

"I suppose." He replied, politely refraining from picking his book back up.

"Well, it was." She gave him a rare soft look through her strange wolf-blue eyes. "I'll wash up and start on dinner."

Bilbo nodded, returning to his book before he made a little noise and scurried after his cousin, who was treading through the house on near silent feet. She glanced back at him but continued on her way.

"You'll never guess who I encountered this morning." Bilbo cried, exasperated, but continued on before she could try. "Gandalf the Grey! You remember him, I suppose. Very rude, he was; talking about adventures!"

"He drew on your door." She replied, grinning cheekily back at the flustered hobbit bachelor before she stepped into her room and closed the door in his face. Bilbo huffed and stomped back to his book, muttering about wizards and cousins showing up out of the blue.

His cousin emerged from her room and headed straight into the kitchen, by-passing the sitting room. Soon, the smial filled with the smell of cooking fish and asparagus with vinegar. Bilbo stood to set the table for two, and then joined his cousin at the table just as she was setting out the plates.

Bilbo was enthusiastically squeezing lemon over his meal when the bell for the door rang. The cousins glanced at each other momentarily in confusion and then Bilbo stood to answer the door.

"Did you invite anyone?" He called.

"No." She replied, eyeing the fish on her cousin's plate. It was staring at her. The slight creak of the old door echoed through the quiet hobbit hole and from the front of Bag End, Bilbo stood staring at a very intimating Big Folk, a dwarf to be exact.

He eyed Bilbo from head-to-hairy-foot and then bowed lowly. "Dwalin, at your service."

Shellshocked, Bilbo stared a moment, let out a bit of a whimper, and realized he was in his evening clothes and robe. Coming to his senses, Bilbo knotted it quickly, all the while saying, "Bilbo Baggins….at yours."

Dwalin eyed him for only a second before pushing into the smial without invitation.

"D-do we…know each other?"

"No." The dwarf said with finality. Bilbo watched him walk into Bag End, completely confused. He stopped at the foyer of the smial and shrugged off his worn cloak while dumping his pack on the ground. "Which way, laddie? Is it down here?"

"I-is what down where?"

"Supper." Dwalin tossed his cloak at Bilbo, who caught it and thanked himself that he did. "He said there'd be food and lots of it."

Bilbo called after the dwarf now heading into his dining room. "H-he said? Who said!?"

It took a moment to realize that this dwarf was heading towards his cousin, and Bilbo rushed to hang up the – unexpected – guest's cloak.

His cousin, meanwhile, had started on her own dinner when the dwarf, Dwalin, strode in, placed himself at Bilbo's spot and began eating the fish she'd prepared as dinner. The dwarf took a large bite with the tiny fork, chewed only twice before he spoke.

"Bit lemony, this."

"That would be because Bilbo just emptied a wedge of lemon onto it. It is his dinner." She replied, and then brandished her knife at the startled dwarf, who had – in the blink of an eye – pulled a dagger out of somewhere and was pointing it at her. "I'd rather you not do that, Master Dwarf. You are a guest, though an unexpected one, and I will kick you out of this smial if you continue to threaten me."

The dwarf put his blade away and put down the fork, eyeing her warily. "Dwalin, at your service."

He bowed his head, and then she placed down her own knife. "Sorrel Took, at yours and your family's."

Bilbo shuffled in, staring as politely as he could, and took a seat in the corner on a stool, disgusted, as the dwarf went back to eating, ripping into the fish with his teeth, having abandoned the fork. Sorrel took a bite of her own fish and then frowned at it. Bilbo had gotten lemon juice on her portion, and she wasn't a fan of the citrus fruit in anything but sweets. She wrinkled her nose, and brushed a loose curl away from her eyes.

"Very good this." Dwalin said, ripping another bite off.

"Thank you." Sorrel replied, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back in her chair.

"Have ya got any more?" He grumbled. Sorrel took one look at the dwarf, with fur broadening his already broad shoulders, and pushed her plate towards him before standing to fetch the dwarf an ale from the pantry. Bilbo jumped to his feet, muttered, "Ah…yes.", and passed over a plate of biscuits he'd baked earlier in the day, but not before pocketing two for himself. "Help yourself."

Dwalin mashed one into his mouth, and then flicked the crumbs off his fingers.

"It's just that…,um," Bilbo began, rocking on his heels and tucking his hands behind his back. "We weren't expecting company."

Sorrel entered the dining room as the bell rung again, carrying one of their tankards full of dark ale. It was from her own store of ales, a rather small barrel she'd brought back with her to the Shire and kept tucked away in a small side pantry that was so barren of food it was laughable.

"That'll be the door." Dwalin grumbled, hunched over his food as the Took woman plopped the tankard before him. Bilbo scurried off at a gesture from his cousin and the intimidating glare from the dwarf. "Thank ya, lass."

"Some of my personal supply." She replied, reaching for a biscuit. Dwalin's hand shifted as though to knock it away but, instead, reached for the ale. His face showed surprise as he took a gulp and he turned to her suspiciously.

"Dwarvish ale, that."

"Aye." She smirked, and then headed for the jar of cookies on the mantle. Dwalin, seeing where she was going, and having exhausted his own supply of food, followed after her. She barely had to stand on her toes to reach the thing, and Dwalin realized just how tall she was compared to her cousin.

Whereas Bilbo reached only his armpit –which didn't smell the best best, he didn't envy anyone who could smell it – Sorrel Took reached his shoulder. She was tall, for a hobbit.

"Cookie?" The lass held out the treat to the dwarf, smirking and he was about to take it from her when another, older looking, dwarf walked in.

"Oh! Haha! Evenin', brother!" He exclaimed, making his way towards Dwalin. The lass moved to lean against the table, watching them carefully whilst she placed the cookie back in the jar, and also with a slight amount of amusement, for she could see Bilbo in the doorway, poking his head out to check and see if there were more strangers heading towards Bag End.

"By my beard," Dwalin chuckled, drawing his words out as he paced towards his brother. "You're shorter and wider than last we met."

"Wider, but not shorter. And sharp enough for the both of us." The white-haired dwarf chuckled. You could see how these two were related to one another, for their features very much matched up; though Dwalin's features were a tad more battle-worn than his brother's.

The pair chuckled at each other, as though they shared some hilarious inside jest, and Dwalin dropped one of his large hands upon the other's shoulder. Bilbo began returning to the dining room, just in time for Dwalin and his brother to rear back and smash their foreheads together. Sorrel snickered under her breath at her cousin's bewildered expression. This, of course, caught Dwalin's brother's attention.

"And whose this?" He said with a kindly smile.

Sorrel dipped her head, the loose strands of hair that had escaped her tight bun brushing against her face. "Sorrel Took, at your service."

"Balin, Son of Fundin, at yours, my dear." He replied, bowing. Sorrel smirked, turning her head to look at Bilbo, who was flabbergasted. Balin and Dwalin, on her opposite side, suddenly caught the glint of metal in her ears. Whilst it was not uncommon for dwarrowdams to wear earrings, she was a hobbit and the way she wore her earrings were very much like Dwalin himself.

The brothers shared a glance and then looked back at this strange hobbit-lass.

"Some ale for you, Master Balin?" the girl said suddenly, turning swiftly. "I have a fine Dwarvish brew I've got hidden away, some of Hobbiton's finest mead, and some wine if you prefer. My cousin seems to have lost the ability to host, so I shall take it upon myself to do so until he has reacquired this skill."

"Ah, an ale, if you please." Balin replied, watching her carefully. She nodded, pushed herself off the table, and headed into the pantry.

Balin glanced at his brother, who had shuffled after the lass towards the pantry, obviously still hungry. She turned as they appeared, smirking, and passed Balin his ale.

"Now, how many in this meeting of yours?"

Should Balin have had any liquid in his mouth at that moment, he very likely would have been tempted to spit it out. Dwalin fixed her with a menacing glare.

"How do you know about the meetin'?" He growled. Sorrel raised one of her finely arched eyebrows.

"Well, really." She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "I know a Dwarvish rune and a wizard when I see one. It's really not all that hard to put together, honestly."

Dwalin grunted, still not convinced. Sorrel sighed heavily.

"Dwarves rarely gather outside their own homes if not in large numbers. Rarely, they'll travel on their own. Also, Dwalin mentioned having lots of food."

"Well, that makes sense, I suppose." Balin sighed, obviously not liking the situation. "There'll be thirteen of us, lassie. Plus the wizard, and your cousin. And yourself, I suppose, should you like to join us for supper."

"Thank you, Master Balin." She replied, glancing around the corner at her cousin. "I'd ask you not tell Bilbo. His fits of fluster are most amusing to witness. I'd ask you also to please leave the pantry alone. I'll see to it there's dinner enough for all of you."

"Miss Took, we dwarves eat-"

"An awful lot. I live with a hobbit. It will be fine." She waved off his concerns and then turned back into the pantry to gather what she needed. Balin and Dwalin both turned back to the dining room and were met with an obviously confused hobbit by the name of Bilbo Baggins.

"Uh, excuse me; sorry, I hate to interrupt, ah, but the thing is, I'm not entirely sure you're in the right house." Dwalin and Balin glanced at each other as the hobbit started speaking. "I-it's not that I don't like visitors – I like visitors as much as the next hobbit –but I do like to know them before they come visiting."

The pair of dwarves turned back to the innards of the pantry, and set about poking at Bag End's stores.

"The thing is, um…the thing is I don't, I don't know either of you -not in the slightest." The sons of Fundin had found and been puzzled by the wedge of expensive blue cheese on one of the shelves. Dwalin tossed it over his shoulder as Sorrel returned to gather some more food. She, to the surprise of Balin – who'd been watching out his peripheral -, caught it with ease and tucked it back on its shelf before gathering an armful of root vegetables and a couple of onions. "I don't mean to be blunt, but I, uh, had to speak my mind. I'm sorry."

Balin and Dwalin both turned to face the hobbit and ceased their chatter. For several tense seconds, the trio stared at one another, before Balin said, "Apology accepted."

He turned back to Dwalin and punched him good-naturedly in the shoulder. "Don't stint, brother. That ale is fine, and I'd like some more."

The bell rang from the entrance, and Sorrel called from the kitchen, where Dwalin could hear the sounds of a knife chopping. "The door, cousin."

Bilbo's face scrunched up and he grumbled his way to the door to his home. He pulled it open reluctantly, and his face fell at the sight of two more dwarves. They were younger than Dwalin and Balin, and both were armed to the teeth.

"Fili," said the one on the left, the blond one with the peculiar mustache.

"And Kili." Said the brunet, with the stubble.

"At your service." They said together, bowing at the waist. The brunet was grinning as he came back up.

"You must be Mister Boggins." Kili was obviously a cheerful fellow, Bilbo thought and then shook himself internally and made to shut the door.

"Nope, you can't come in. You've come to the wrong house." Unfortunately for dear Mister Baggins, Kili thrust his foot out and pushed the door back open, his cheerful expression falling into one of a kicked puppy. His brother eyed the door suspiciously.

"What? Has it been canceled?!"

Fili looked at Kili and then back to Bilbo. "No one told us."

"Can-Nothings been canceled." The poor hobbit was utterly confused now.

"That's a relief." Said Kili, who pushed past the hobbit and inside, followed swiftly by his brother, who swaggered in, but eyed Bilbo carefully. The blond pulled his weapons from his side.

"Careful with these, I just had 'em sharpened."

"It's nice, this place. D'you do it yourself?"

Meanwhile, Dwalin had heard the brothers come in and was headed their way. This, of course, led him past the lass in the kitchen, who was adding things to a stew and was swiftly trussing up a small game bird. Already, a large pile of venison chunks was sat beside the stew pot, and several large steaks sat in their brown paper wrapping on the counter. Sorrel nodded at the large dwarf before returning to her work.

"Ah, Master Dwalin." She called, flicking a glance back over her shoulder to the warrior. "If thirteen is the number of visitors, you'll want to be moving the dining table. There're enough chairs scattered around my cousin's home to suit your needs."

"Thank ya, lass." He nodded to Balin, who'd heard what she had said, and moved into the foyer.

"Fili, Kili, come on, give us a hand."

"Mister Dwalin." Kili grinned, looking at the older warrior with a good bit of awe and a lot of respect.

"Let's shove this in the hallway," Balin directed, moving to one of the table's corners. "Otherwise we'll never get everyone in."

"Ev-everyone? How many more are there!?"

The bell rang again, loudly, and Sorrel could suddenly hear her cousin shouting, "No! No! There's nobody home!"

A loud thump followed this loud statement, and she smirked as she tossed a handful of herbs into the stew pot, and then turned to the root vegetables she'd gathered. She eyed them for a moment, before reaching for her knife, which she expertly twirled in her fingers before tackling the job of peeling and cleaning the food. The stew pot wafted the lovely smell of onions, garlic and browned meat.

"Go away, and bother somebody else! There's far too many dwarves in my dining room, as is! If this is some clot head's idea of a joke –" Bilbo's voice trailed off here as he got too far away for her to hear. There was an uproarious thud of several people falling and Sorrel assumed this meant that the rest of the Dwarves using her cousin's home for a meeting place had arrived.

It took very little time for the dwarves to create chaos in the pantry, grabbing things left and right, and tossing them to one another.

"Those are my plates! Excuse me! Not my wine. Put that back. Put that back! Not the jam, please!...Excuse me!" Bilbo demanded, several times over to several different dwarves. This was the liveliest Sorrel had ever seen Bag End in the months she'd been living there. It was amusing, to say the least. However, the dwarves were being a nuisance, and she'd had just about enough of them tossing the contents of her cousin's pantry about.

"A tad excessive, isn't it? Have you got a cheese knife!?"

"Cheese knife? He eats it by the block."

Sorrel turned about, knife in her hand, to finish trimming the steaks when a slight cough sounded from the entrance to the kitchen. She spun, quick as a hummingbird, and the knife she held was flipped through her fingers and poised as though she wanted to throw it in a matter of seconds.

The dwarf in the entrance flushed slightly and bowed.

"My apologies." He said. "I didn't mean to startle you. Dori, at your service. Might I use your kettle for a cup or two of tea?"

"Sorrel Took, at yours." She grabbed the shiny black kettle and pushed it his way. "You may certainly make some tea."

The pair were quiet for a moment.

"So then," Dori spoke up as he waited for the water to boil. "How long have you and Mister Baggins been courting?"

Sorrel snorted, in a most unladylike fashion, and then she laughed. "Courting, Master Dori? Hardly. Bilbo is my cousin. Younger, at that."

"Again, I offer my apologies. I merely assumed…." Dori fumbled through his clothes, looking for the pouch he kept his tea in, and also avoiding embarrassed eye contact.

"'tis fine." She waved it off, amused. "Tell me. What kind of chaos have they managed to create out there?"

"I do believe they are setting the table." Dori replied, reaching for the kettle. He was turning to ask about cups when two were set in front of him, and the lass turned back to the stove, propping a hand on her hip and stirring the stew.

"If you could tell them to stop making such a mess the of the pantry, and wait but a few moments, dinner will soon be ready."

"I will pass that along."

"Thank you."

* * *

Gandalf watched, amused, as the dwarves scurried about Bag End. He had stepped into the dining room and glanced at the young Master Ori, who was wiping down a set of plates to free them from the dust with his sleeve. From behind, someone cleared their throat.

"Mister Gandalf, might I tempt you with a nice cup of chamomile?"

"Oh, no thank, you, Dori. A little red wine for me, I think." The wizard went to duck out of the dining room but the eldest Ri brother caught his attention once more.

"The lass in the kitchen said that dinner was nearly ready," he said, and then turned to his kin in the pantry. "And could you stop pillaging the pantry!"

Dori's last sentence was loud and the dwarves stopped what they were doing to look at the dwarrow who said it. Dori drew himself up.

"Dinner will be ready soon."

"Someone's cooking dinner?" Ori said, looking at his brother. Gandalf frowned some, and then shuffled towards the kitchen, dodging the chandelier. The gray wizard ducked into the kitchen and his eyebrows rose.

"Never in all my years," He said, and the figure before him turned with a smirk. "Have I ever seen you so domestic, Sorrel Took."

She laughed, smoothing down her skirts and touching her messy hair. "Never have I been so domestic. Thought I'd try something a little different for a change."

"Those skirts are nice, my dear." Gandalf said, eyeing the stew on the stove. "But they don't quite suit you as much as your other attire."

The young woman glanced down at her clothing and chuckled, swishing the blue fabric about her partially exposed legs. Her blue skirts – in the hobbit style, of course- were paired with a form-fitting tan shirt, which buttoned up the front and left a lovely amount of her collarbones showing.

"Sometimes," She leaned as though to share a great secret, a smirk on her tanned face. "I like to feel like a member of my own gender."

Gandalf chuckled and then stepped out of the kitchen, counting the dwarves as they strode past.

"Fili and Kili, Oin, Gloin, Balin, Dwalin, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Dori, Nori, and Ori."

Bifur strode up, and spoke to Gandalf in Khuzdul, slapping his arm as he did so. "Quite right, Bifur. We appear to be one short."

"He's is late, is all. He traveled North to a meeting of our kin. He will come."

"Mister Gandalf?" Dori approached the Grey Pilgrim with a tiny little glass in his meaty hand. "A little glass of red wine, as requested. It's, eh, got a fruity bouquet."

"Ah, cheers." The man said as the dwarf wandered off, either to see his brothers or to help in the kitchen. Gandalf drank the tiny cup and then looked at it sadly, peering into it as though there may be more at the bottom.

"Out the way! Out the way!" Dori called, bearing two platters of steaming food. "More where this came from! Nori, Ori, help the lass move dinner to the table, would you?"

Nori and Ori shared confused looks and then headed into the kitchen, where their brother's ramblings had suddenly made sense.

"Excuse me, miss?" Ori said shyly, prompting the lady to turn, already holding four platters in an incredible feat of balance. "Dori said to come help."

"Aye, you can." She replied. "You must be Nori and Ori. Take as many platters as you can carry, there's enough for the lot of you."

Once the table was set with food and all the dwarves sat down, including Sorrel and Gandalf, the wizard made a strange tutting noise.

"This looks lovely, my dear." He said, catching the attentions of the rest of the dwarves, who fell quite silent at the now known presence of a woman. "You've simply outdone yourself. Company, may I introduce Miss Sorrel Took, Bilbo's cousin."

"Pleasure." She said, flashing a charming, if roguish, grin.

"Goodness me!" Bilbo murmured, not entirely used to seeing his cousin so comfortable in the company of others.

After a flurried round of introductions, the dwarves dug into the food with quiet relish. It took them several long minutes of serving food politely for Bofur, the hatted dwarf with laugh lines around his eyes, to call out to his brother at the end of the table.

"Bombur, catch!" And then he flung a hard-boiled egg at the massive ginger dwarf. Bombur opened his mouth and caught the sudden projectile, prompting cheers of encouragement. This, of course, managed to send the dwarves into a food fight, which was normal for these kinds of meetings.

Bilbo, however, made a noise of disgust and wrinkled his nose, hurrying out of the crowded hall and over to his pantry to see how badly it had been ransacked.

It was empty.

"On the count of three!" One of the rambunctious guests yelled. "One! Two!" And the dining room went silent.

* * *

Bilbo Baggins, being the kind of respectable hobbit he was, scurried around his house to try and prevent any more damage from being committed, with absolutely no help from his cousin, who was deep in conversation with Balin.

"Excuse me! That is a doily, not a dishcloth!" Bilbo called, snatching the object from the dwarf with the tri-pointed hair.

"But it's full of holes." Said the hatted dwarf from where he was leaning on the wall, drinking an ale.

"It's supposed to look like that, it's crochet." The hobbit grumbled, exasperatedly folding the doily in question to place it out of the way, where it hopefully wouldn't be touched by another dwarf.

"Oh, and a wonderful game it is too," Bofur chuckled. "If you've got the balls for it."

An amused snort followed this jest, one determinedly feminine in nature. Bilbo marched over to one of the shelves in his kitchen, deposited the doily and then turned to glare at his cousin, who was leaning towards Bofur in a, most assuredly, far too familiar way.

"And do you have the balls for it?" She teased with a mocking gleam in her eye. Bilbo turned back to set of shelves and seriously considered bashing his head against them.

"Bother and confiscate these dwarves!" He grumbled under his breath, clenching his fist tightly.

"My dear Bilbo," Gandalf's voice came from high about the hobbit's head, as the wandering wizard strode through the kitchen door. "What on earth is the matter?"

"What – What's the matter?!" He cried, following Gandalf. "I'm surrounded by dwarves. What are they doing here?"

Gandalf turned to watch Nori and Bofur argue over a link of sausages, whilst Sorrel swirled a mug of ale behind them.

"Oh, they're quite a merry gathering," Gandalf supplied. "Once you get used to them."

"I don't want to get used to them!" Poor Bilbo Baggins grabbed Gandalf by the wrist and dragged him back into the hall. "The state of my kitchen! There's mud trod into the carpet, they've pi-pillaged the pantry. I'm not even going to tell you what they've done in the bathroom; they've all but destroyed the plumbing. I don't understand what they're doing in my house!"

It was then that his lovely cousin chose to make an appearance again, smoothing down her skirt and her cheeks flushed, a large smile on her face.

"And my cousin!" Bilbo cried. "She's gone mad!"

"No." Sorrel stopped beside him, placing an arm around Bilbo's shoulders. He glared at her and shrugged it off, taking in her disheveled appearance. Her hair, which only just that afternoon had been carefully tucked into a respectable bun for someone of her age, no matter how much she didn't look it, had practically fallen out of its ribbon, wisps and curls falling all about her face. She had a small stain on the corner of her shirt and she held the faint scent of ale about her.

"Have you been drinking!?" Bilbo exclaimed.

"Yes." She replied. "But I haven't gone mad. I simply haven't attended a dwarvish gathering like this in a long time, Bilbo."

"In a long time -"

"Excuse me," said the dwarf with the knitted mittens, shyly grabbing Bilbo's already jumpy attention. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but what should I do with my plate?"

Sorrel reached for it, obviously to attend to the dishes, but before she could get there, the handsome young blond dwarf reached over her shoulder and snatched it from the other dwarf.

"Here you go, Ori, give it to me. The lady already made us a lovely dinner," He fixed the woman with a mischievous smile.

And then he tossed the plate down the hall like it was some sort of toy. Gandalf scrambled out of the way just in time, and the other young dwarf, the brunet, caught it with one hand. He flung it around his back and into the kitchen and Bilbo assumed, judging by the lack of shattering, that someone else had caught it.

Sorrel laughed as another plate flew towards her, smiling at the blond dwarf, who sent her a flirty wink as he caught it and tossed it on. Bilbo blanched; his cousin didn't flirt. Then he did it again, for the uninvited dwarves were tossing about his mother's crockery, which she'd gotten as a wedding gift from her own mother.

"Excuse me, that's my mother's West Farthing crockery, it's over a hundred years old!"

As though this was a cue, the blond dwarf grabbed his cousin and twirled her out of the way as Nori and Bofur began rhythmically drumming on the table with their fist and clashing their utensils against one-another.

"And can – can you not do that!? You'll blunt them!"

"Ooooh, d'hear that, lads?" Bofur drawled out, a cheeky smile on his face. "He says we'll blunt the knives."

* * *

Sorrel watched with great glee as her cousin frantically ran around the smial like a chicken with its head cut off. The dwarves were far rowdier than he was used to, and he absolutely hated filth in his home, of which there was now an abundance.

She'd been in the kitchen when Bilbo had dragged Gandalf out, ranting about the felonies committed in his abode, getting ready to do the dishes herself, when Bifur had appeared and grumbled something at her. She blinked her large eyes at him, and politely asked him to repeat himself.

The injured dwarf made a shooing motion at her and repeated what he'd said, but louder. It took Sorrel all of two seconds to realize he was speaking Khuzdul and wanted her out of the kitchen.

"Galkhu astu du isbek it-telar. (Good of you to wash the plates)." She replied to the dwarf as she strode out of the kitchen. Bifur gave her a strange look, but filled the wash basin with hot soapy water. She strode out into the hall, where Bilbo had dragged Gandalf.

"And my cousin!" the hobbit cried. "She's gone mad!"

"No." Sorrel stopped beside him, throwing an arm around his shoulders with a cheeky smile. She imagined she was quite a bit disheveled because she could feel her unruly hair against her face.

"Have you been drinking!?" Bilbo exclaimed before she could say anything.

"Yes." Sorrel replied. "But I haven't gone mad. I simply haven't attended a dwarvish gathering like this in a long time, Bilbo."

"In a long time-" Before he could finish, Ori, polite little thing that he was, appeared in one of the doorways with his plate in his knitted mittens.

"Excuse me," the young dwarf said. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but what should I do with my plate?"

Sorrel lifted her arm off her cousin and reached for it, intending to take it back to Bifur in the kitchen. Before she could take it, however, a hand appeared over her shoulder and snatched it away. Sorrel turned her eyes behind her to meet the intense blue gaze of Fili, who winked.

"Here you go, Ori, give it to me. The lady already made us a lovely dinner." He fixed her with a mischievous smile. He spun on his heel quickly, and flung it down the corridor like a toy. Gandalf scrambled out of the way just in time, and Kili, the brunet, caught it with one hand just as he came out of the kitchen with his pipe in the other. He flung it around his back and to Bifur, who Sorrel knew was likely still standing at the wash basin.

She laughed as another plate flew into Fili's hands from the dining room, and he sent her another flirty wink as he tossed it to his brother. Bilbo looked a bit horrified at this.

Fili caught another and tossed it, all the while Bilbo Baggins cried out about his mother's West Farthing crockery. And as though this was a cue, Sorrel found her hands snatched up by Fili as he twirled her out of the way. Fili grinned at her while he bounced a bowl off his elbows and sent it flying towards Kili. Nori and Bofur, who were seated at the table, began rhythmically drumming on the table with their fists and clashing the utensils in their hands against one another.

"And can – can you not do that!?" Bilbo called. "You'll blunt them!"

"Ooooh, d'hear that, lads?" Bofur drawled out, a cheeky smile on his face. "He says we'll blunt the knives."

Kili whirled to face the blonde dwarf and gestured for another projectile. "Blunt the knives, bend the forks!"

"Smash the bottles and burn the corks," Fili nodded, bounced another bowl on his elbows and then flung the dish down the hall, narrowly missing Sorrel, who laughed as she ducked.

"Chip the glass and crack the plates," The rest of the dwarves joined in. "That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!"

And suddenly dishes were flying everywhere, into Ori's arms, off Dwalin's head, past an exasperated Balin.

"Cut the cloth and tread on the fat, leave the bones on the bedroom mat! Pour the milk on the pantry floor,"

Fili executed an impressive roll beneath his brother's leg, which was propped up on a door frame, to catch a wayward plate that he tossed to Bifur himself. Sorrel, reacting easily to the chaos, rolled a plate across her shoulders and down her arm, flicking it towards the impressed brothers, who vanished into the kitchen.

"Splash the wine on every door! Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl, pound them up with a thumping pole, and when you've finished, if any are whole…. send them down the hall to roll!"

Sorrel felt her hand get snatched up again as someone in the dining room began a jaunty tune on a flute and she was twirled into the blonde dwarf again. She laughed heartily as he led her around the hall in a clumsy dance, dodging the dishes all the while, and he spun her into the kitchen.

She had to duck to avoid a fork which was hurled at high velocity towards Bifur, and leaned against the wall near him, as she struggled not to laugh.

"That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!" The dwarves yelled, laughing all the while. Bilbo, who had been herded into the kitchen, spluttered at the pile of clean dishes on the table and the sight of his flushed and breathless cousin against the wall.

Three loud echoing thumps resounded against the door, and everyone fell silent, trading looks with one another.

Gandalf broke the silence.

"He is here."

* * *

 **Please review, I'd love to hear what you think. The lovely cover image is by Manoela Costa.**


	2. An Unexpected Song

The dwarves shuffled and pushed one another to get into the foyer of Bag End, shoving Bilbo in front of them. Sorrel was kept in the front and out of much of the manhandling by Fili and his brother, who grinned at the door and stashed his pipe away somewhere in his jacket. Gandalf shuffled through the dwarves with his head tucked down, swinging open the door with a soft creak.

"Gandalf." The dwarrow at the door said, exasperation heavy in the look he sent the wizard. The dwarf strode into the smial as though he wasn't uninvited and belonged there. "I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice."

The three dwarves in the entrance to the dining hall – Dori, Dwalin, and Ori – bowed their heads at the newcomer as he reached up to undo his worn cloak.

"Wouldn't have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door."

Bilbo pushed himself between Dwalin and Dori. "Mark? There's no mark on that door! It was painted a week ago!"

Sorrel rolled her eyes. Her cousin had obviously not been outside since yesterday, for there was very clearly a mark on the door. One that she was quite curious how it ended up there.

"There is a mark." Gandalf soothed in a quiet, but slightly annoyed tone. "I put it there myself."

Well that explained a lot then, didn't it? Meddlesome wizard. The new dwarf eyed Bilbo with interest but switched his gaze to Gandalf when the man spoke again.

"Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakensheild."

"So, this is the Hobbit. Tell me, Mister Baggins, have you done much fighting?"

The only female in the smial had to hold back a snort of laughter, comparing her cousin very quickly to these hardened dwarves.

The new one struck a powerful image. His braids and hair were immaculate despite his dusty clothing, which were well-made and well-worn. His coat, long and very dark blue, was edged with a thick fur and more than likely hid a fine set of dwarvish mail beneath it. His boots were tailored to specifically fit him. Sorrel knew immediately who he was, because the clasps and braids in his hair were the only ones like it, even if he'd been introduced.

"Pardon me?" Bilbo frowned as the dwarf circled him.

"Ax or sword? What's your weapon of choice? I saw one when I entered."

"Well, I have some skill at Conkers," Bilbo puffed himself up at the word. He was the best in Hobbiton but was downplaying this skill. "If you must know…. but I fail to see why that's relevant."

"Thought as much." Thorin scoffed. "He looks more like a grocer than a burglar. The bow outside and the ax by the door must be for decoration."

The dwarves around her all chuckled and Sorrel bristled at this.

"That's a _sword_. And if you so please," She sneered, stepping forward with fire in her eyes. "I'll not have you insulting the _weapons_ that I crafted _myself_ in my own home!"

Bilbo stared at his cousin with surprise. He hadn't known that she'd made her weapons herself. When she'd shown up on his doorstep following a letter, she had them with her and he had simply thought she had bought them.

Fili watched his uncle's face carefully. Having known him all his life, the blond dwarf knew immediately what the expressions that crossed his face meant, and very carefully kept his chuckle under control. Thorin hadn't expected the spitfire lass, nor expected for the weapons he had insulted to be handmade by her either. Insulting someone's craftsmanship was not something a dwarf did lightly, for it was a heavy insult to the maker.

Thorin eyed the petite woman with curiosity and veiled surprise. Her head was lifted high and her hands were propped on her skirt-covered hips. Her grey-blue eyes were narrowed with immense distaste at his comment – or general arrival – and her hair curled and wisped around her face in the fashion of one who'd been busy and hadn't had the time to tame it all.

"My apologies, miss." Thorin tilted his head down in a fraction of a nod. "I did not intend to insult you."

"I should think not, your Majesty." Thorin's brows furrowed slightly at the title. "But you did. And you did it in my home."

Bilbo looked very confused on this whole matter, wringing his hands nervously and looking back and forth between what was obviously a rock and a hard place in humanoid form.

"Nevertheless," Sorrel continued, dropping her hands from her waist though her eyes stayed narrowed. "I imagine that you are weary, hungry, and in need of an ale. This doesn't excuse you, Mister Oakensheild, but if you manage to not insult anything _else_ of mine tonight, then I'll ignore what you said. Follow me."

She turned on her heel and marched towards Dwalin, Dori, and Ori, who promptly backed out of her way. Thorin paused only to drop his pack with the others gathered at the door, following swiftly after the woman.

"Sit." She ordered, pointing to the chair at the end of the table before she vanished into another room. Several clatters and thumps later, she appeared with a bowl of steaming stew and a buttery looking roll. The dwarves filed around her carefully, taking their seats again.

"Might I have more of your ale, lass?" Balin asked as he passed Sorrel by, smiling gently. She raised an eyebrow at him but spun on her heel to get him some more of the good ale. Balin had been nothing but nice the entire evening, and the barrel was almost empty anyway.

"What news from the meeting in Ered Luin? Did they all come?" Balin asked Oakensheild.

"Aye." The dwarf nodded, swallowing. He gazed at the stew for several seconds, impressed with its flavor before he answered his long-time friend. "Envoys from all seven kingdoms."

Sorrel, in the hallway, rolled her eyes at the loud murmurs of joy that came from the unexpected gathering.

"What do the dwarves of the Iron Hills say? Is Dain with us?" Dwalin spoke up as she entered the makeshift dining hall again. Sorrel leaned over Thorin's shoulder and over Bofur to pass Balin his ale and then plopped a second down in front of the King. Balin gave a small smile in thanks for the both of them. Thorin nodded but kept his eyes fixed in the general direction of Dwalin.

"They will not come," Thorin said, lifting his mug. "They say this quest is ours, and ours alone."

"You're going on a quest?" Bilbo asked, curious, as the dwarves murmured their disappointment and shared sad looks with one another.

"Bilbo, my dear fellow, let us have a little more light," Gandalf suggested, pulling a worn map from his sleeve and starting to unfold it. Sorrel's cousin scurried off to grab a candle from the sitting room, but Sorrel herself leaned against the doorframe with her grey-blue eyes narrowed with curiosity.

"Far to the East," Gandalf began. "Over ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands, lies a single solitary peak."

The Grey Wizard placed his finger on the inking of a mountain shadowed by what appeared to be a dragon. Bilbo, returning with a lit candle in hand, peered over Thorin's shoulder. The hobbit handed the candle over and then vanished to take stock of his pantry, as empty as it was.

"The Lonely Mountain." He read before he handed the candle over and vanished to take stock of his pantry, as empty as it was.

"Aye." Said the dwarf with a massive ginger beard. "Oin has read the portents (Here there was much grumbling from the dwarves around him), and the portents say it is time."

"Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain, as it was foretold." a dwarf with an impressive gray beard spoke up, though he clutched a hearing horn in his hand. "When the birds of yore return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end."

Sorrel, still leaning on the doorframe, scowled at the mention of a beast and a dark look passed over her face. Fili, who was sitting beside the dwarf with the impressive gray beard, gave her a small smile.

"Uh, what beast?" Bilbo said with concern, glancing at his cousin and shuffling slightly in her direction.

"Well," Bofur said with some dramatics. "That would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible, chiefest and greatest calamity of our age. Airborne firebreather, teeth like razors, claws like meat hooks, extremely fond of precious metals -"

"Yes, I know what a dragon is." Bilbo interrupted, wringing his hands. Sorrel, however, had seen him sneak a glance at the map on the table again.

"I'm not afraid!" Sweet little Ori protested, rising to his feet with a screech from his chair. "I'm up for it! I'll give him a taste of Dwarvish iron right up his jacksie."

"And suffer the stench of a dragon's backside?" Sorrel muttered under her breath as the dwarves around her cousin's table shouted at each other.

"Sit down!" Dori told his younger brother, grabbing him by the back of his knitted sweater and pulling. Ori looked a bit put out as he fell back into his chair.

"The task," Balin interrupted loudly, tightening his hands around his half-finished mug of ale. "Would be difficult enough with an army behind us. But we number just _thirteen_ , and not thirteen of the best, nor brightest."

"Oi!"

"Who are you calling dim?!"

"Watch it!"

"No!"

"What did he say?" The portent dwarf, Oin as Sorrel now recalled, grumbled loudly. She waved a gentle hand in his direction, gathering both his attention and the attention of Bifur. Their eyebrows rose when her hands started moving in quick and accurate Iglishmek signs.

"We may be few in number," Fili called out, glancing around with a proud look. "But we're fighters, _all_ of us, to the last dwarf!"

"And you forget, we have a _wizard_ in our company!" Kili exclaimed excitedly. "Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time!"

"Oh, well…" Gandalf struggled for words. "Now, uh. I-I-I wouldn't say that, I -"

"How many, then?" Dori interrupted briskly, folding his arms on the table.

"Uh, what?" The wizard fumbled, his eyes wide and his pipe clutched in his hand.

"Well, how many dragons have you killed? Go on, give us a number."

"Yes, Gandalf," Sorrel said, mischief in her eyes. She fixed this look on the wizard and smiled. "Tell us how many."

"Hmm." The man promptly put his pipe into his mouth and started coughing. Sorrel laughed, but the dwarves all jumped to their feet with a great clatter and started arguing. Thorin and Balin stayed in their seats. Balin looked as though he wanted to bury his face in his hands, but Thorin just looked exasperated and sighed heavily.

"Shazara (Silence)!" He yelled. The company lowered back into their seats with silent mouths. Sorrel turned her eyes to where Bilbo had been last standing, only to find him gone. Pity, she had wanted to see his face at the ruckus. "If we have read these signs, do you not _think_ others will have read them too? Rumors have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug has not been seen for sixty years. Eyes look east to the Mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully _ours_? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor? _Du Bekar_! _Du Bekar_! (To arms! To arms!)"

Great cheers rose from the dwarves, all of them raising fists or flagons into the air.

"You forget," Balin interrupted, his face deep with worry. "The front gate is sealed. There is no way into the mountain."

"That," Gandalf spoke up again, twiddling his fingers. "Is not entirely true."

A flash of silver appeared through his fingers and Gandalf revealed a key, obviously dwarvish make, and ornately wrought into a wonderful geometric pattern. Thorin seemed to tense.

"How came you by this?" Thorin practically whispered.

"It was given to me by your father, by Thrain," Several of the dwarves straightened, awe in their eyes. "For safe keeping. It is yours now."

The King took the key from the wizard gently, almost reverently, and he stared at it with wonder. Bilbo rounded the corner on silent feet, but Sorrel glanced back at him with a lifted brow.

"If there is a key," Fili spoke quietly into the silence. "There must be a _door_."

Gandalf nodded sagely, lowering the mouthpiece of his pipe to point at a series of runes on the left of the map. "These runes speak of a hidden passage to the lower halls."

"There's another way in!" Kili said, clapping his brother on the back with excitement in his eyes.

"Well, if we can find it, but dwarf doors are invisible when closed." Gandalf shrugged as if this was no great deal. "The answer lies hidden somewhere in this map and I do not have the skill to find it. But there are others in Middle-Earth who can. The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth, and no small amount of courage. But, if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done."

" _That's_ why we need a burglar," Ori said, gesturing in the direction of the map.

"Hm, a good one, too," Bilbo said as he examined the runes and the map over Thorin's shoulder again. Bilbo had a great fascination with maps, and so, was taking this chance to examine the one on the table. Sorrel hadn't missed the look Gandalf had sent in his direction at the mention of stealth and courage. "An expert, I'd imagine."

"And are you?" Gloin demanded. Bilbo stared back at the ginger dwarf, and then glanced over his shoulder. Sorrel, who was behind him, shrugged her free shoulder and lifted a brow.

"Am I what?"

"He said he's an expert! Hey hey!" Oin called, looking around excitedly at the dwarves around him.

"M-me?" Bilbo spluttered. No, no, no, no, no. I'm not a _burglar_ ; I've never stolen a thing in my life. "

"Liar." Sorrel hissed at him under her breath, clearly remembering a couple of fireworks he had filched from Gandalf himself when he was fauntling. Bilbo shot her a nasty look.

"I'm afraid I have to agree with Mister Baggins. He's hardly burglar material." Balin shook his head.

"Aye." Dwalin drawled, fixing his eyes on the Baggins. "The wild is no place for gentlefolk who neither fight nor fend for themselves."

His eyes flickered over to where Sorrel stood, but Bilbo nodded in agreement as his cousin bristled and drew herself away from the doorframe. The dwarves, once again, descended into arguing, but this time, Sorrel joined into the noise.

"You wanna go, Master Dwalin?" She hissed, stepping forward with deadly eyes. "Those weapons of mine aren't just for show, you know. I'll beat you 'round the head with them… see how gentle you think me then!"

"Enough!" Gandalf bellowed, rising from his tiny stool. His shadow drifted menacingly up the wall and then enveloped the room. "If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is!"

"Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet." He said in a calmer tone as the shadow of power retreated. "In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of _dwarf_ , the scent of _hobbit_ is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage. You asked me to find the fourteenth member of this company, and I have chosen Mister Baggins. There's a lot more to him than appearances suggest, and he's got a great deal more to offer than any of you know, including himself. You must trust me on this."

"Very well," Thorin spoke after a long moment of eye contact with Gandalf. "We will do it your way."

"No, no, no." Bilbo protested, even as the Dwarf King said, "Give him the contract."

"Please!"

"Alright, we're off!"

Balin rose to his feet, digging a thick folded parchment from his pocket. "It's just the usual summary of out-of-pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, so forth."

"Funeral arrangements?!" Bilbo practically squeaked, much to the amusement of his cousin. Thorin grabbed the contract and thrust it backward into Bilbo's chest. Bilbo took a couple of steps into the hall and unfolded the thick sheaf of paper. Sorrel turned to watch him, curious as to how the usually proper and gentle Baggins would handle… this.

"I cannot guarantee his safety." Sorrel heard from behind her, though she was sure the murmured words were not for her ears.

"Understood." Gandalf's voice came next.

"Nor will I be responsible for his fate."

It was several long moments before Gandalf agreed to this as well, but not before Sorrel felt his wizened eyes on her back.

"Agreed…." He trailed off.

"Terms: Cash upon delivery, up to but not exceeding one fourteenth of total profit, if any. Seems fair. Eh, present Company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof, including, but not limited to, lacerations…. evisceration…. _incineration_!?"

"Oh, aye." Bofur grinned, and the gathered company turned to watch. "He'll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye."

"Huh." Bilbo looked pale and Sorrel smirked a bit, knowing what was likely to happen. She knew her cousin, and if Bofur was as much a jokester as his eyes said, then he would take full advantage of the situation.

"You all right, laddie?" Balin asked as Bilbo bent over, now looking slightly nauseous.

"Do you need a bucket, cousin?" She teased.

"Uh, yeah… feel a bit faint." He replied to Balin, ignoring her completely. Bofur rose to his feet and leaned against the doorframe.

"Think furnace…with wings."

"Air, I-I-I need air." Bilbo pressed a hand to his chest. Sorrel straightened, frowning in her cousin's direction. She'd seen him have a panic attack before, when Lobelia Sackville-Baggins had announced she was coming around for tea, and this looked very like that moment.

"Flash of light, searing pain, then poof!" Bofur waved his arm. "You're nothing more than a pile of ash!"

Bilbo breathed heavily, trying to compose himself in front of company. Sorrel shook her head and the dwarves just stared.

"Hmm." Bilbo's eyes glazed over. "Nope."

With a very loud thud, Bilbo Baggins fell to the floor in a dead faint. Sorrel strode forward and prodded Bilbo's form with her foot, shaking her head with exasperation.

"Ah, very helpful, Bofur." The wizard said with heavy sarcasm.

Sorrel knelt by her cousin and slid her arms under his torso, helping his prone body into a sitting position.

"I'll get him, lass." Bofur said, beginning shuffling around the doorframe. She threw a look over her shoulder and then lunged forward in a movement that made the dwarves jump. She stood with ease and then glanced at them.

"I've got him fine, Mister Bofur." She smirked, glancing briefly at where Bilbo's body was now slung over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Her eyes turned to take in the surprise plastered over the dwarves and then she turned to take Bilbo into the sitting room, feeling many eyes on her back as she did so.

"Aye…." Bofur said quietly. "That you do."

Gandalf pushed himself to his feet with a quiet grunt and he maneuvered himself around Thorin before ducking to follow the woman. The King watched the pair with Bilbo with narrowed eyes, particularly interested in the female. He turned back to his company when they vanished from his sight.

"The woman." He demanded quietly. "Who is she?"

The dwarves traded looks.

"That's his cousin," Dwalin replied, straight to the point as he always was. "Her name is Sorrel Took; she lives here with the Hobbit."

Bifur looked as though he wanted to say something, opening and closing his mouth like a gaping fish. Finally, he puffed up his cheeks and scratched his forehead, around the ax embedded there. Bofur watched his cousin with curiosity, wondering what had gathered the attention of the impaired dwarf to warrant such motions. Bombur quietly observed his kin, picking at the plate of leftovers before him.

Thorin barely noticed the Ur family's silent dilemma, frowning down at the dregs of his still warm stew.

"She seems nice." Kili spoke up from the opposite end of the table, leaning around his brother, who looked pensive.

"Aye." Dori agreed, with nods from Ori and a curious look from Nori. "She's kind lass."

"I…" Nori frowned deeply, furrowing his braided eyebrows. "Think there's quite a lot more than she shows."

"What do you mean, Nori?" Ori asked. The other dwarves fixed their eyes on the thief, also curious as to what he had to say.

"Well," He began. "She is very different from the Bilbo Baggins fellow. She didn't seem at all surprised when we came in, late though it was."

"That's true." Balin agreed. "She seemed to know that more of us were coming, almost as though she'd had experience with these kinds of things before."

"I think she has." Ori interrupted quietly. "I went to ask Mister Baggins about what to do with my plate, and I heard her say she hadn't attended a dwarvish gathering like this in a long time."

"She has dwarvish ale." Gloin pointed out, eyeing up the bit still left in Balin's mug. "A good brew too, judging by the looks of it."

"She knows Iglishmek." Oin added, having followed the conversation for once. "She was signing to Bifur and I earlier, helping me to follow the conversation."

" _Khuzdul_." Bifur barked pointing in the direction Sorrel Took had vanished. Thorin's eyebrows rose.

"A dwarf-friend?" Balin guessed cautiously. "It's rare, but it happens."

"You could ask her." Fili lifted his gaze from the table. "She seems like the kind of maiden who would be outright with answers if asked."

"Perhaps." Thorin nodded, rising to his feet.

* * *

Bilbo had come round very quickly, but it might have been due to the smelling salts that suddenly appeared under his nose and cuppa that appeared in his hands shortly after.

"I'll be alright." He assured Sorrel, who was watching him from another of the chairs in the room. "Let me just sit quietly for a moment."

"You've been sitting quietly for far too long." Gandalf snapped. Bilbo opened and closed his mouth as though he wanted to protest. Sorrel merely leaned against her fist, silently agreeing with the wizard. "Tell me, when did _doilies_ and your mother's _dishes_ become so important to you? I remember a young Hobbit who always was running off in search of elves and the woods, who'd stay out late, come home after dark, trailing mud and twigs and fireflies. A young Hobbit who would have liked nothing better than to find out what was beyond the borders of the Shire. The world is not in your books and maps; it's out _there_."

"I can't just go running off into the blue." Bilbo declared. "I am a Baggins, of Bag End."

"You are also a Took." Sorrel murmured, stopping Gandalf from saying the same thing. He lifted his eyebrows at her but nodded. Bilbo dropped his head onto the back of his chair and stared at the ceiling.

"Did you know that your great-great-great-great-uncle, Bullroarer Took, was so large he could ride a real horse?" The wizard gestured to the portrait of their uncle on the wall.

"Yes." Bilbo grumbled.

"Well, he could!" Gandalf insisted. "In the Battle of Green Fields, he charged the goblin ranks. He swung his club so hard, it knocked the Goblin King's head clean off, and it sailed a hundred yards through the air and went down a rabbit hole. And thus the battle was won, and the game of golf invented at the same time."

"I do believe you made that up." Bilbo withheld a bit of a laugh. Sorrel smiled gently at the flustered Hobbit.

"Well, all good stories deserve embellishment." Gandalf lowered himself into the remaining chair. "You'll have a tale or two to tell of your own when you come back."

"Can you promise that I _will_ come back?" Bilbo sighed.

"No. And if you do, you will not be the same."

"That's what I thought." Bilbo remarked, placing the contract on the ottoman in front of his large feet as he stood, rocking onto his heels. "Sorry, Gandalf, I can't sign this. You've got the wrong hobbit."

Sorrel watched her cousin as he left the room, blinking twice before her mouth curled into a smirk.

"I had hoped he would have been much more like you used to be, Sorrel." Gandalf muttered to the woman. She chuckled and then stood, brushing off her skirt as she did so.

"He _is_ very much like I was." She replied, folding her arms and looking Gandalf right in the eye.

"Do you think so?" Gandalf asked.

"I know him best of the two of us, don't you think?" Sorrel teased. "You won't be disappointed Gandalf."

"Hmm." He nodded, nibbling on the end of his pipe. His gray eyes peered into her own, and though Sorrel wanted to look away, she simply couldn't bring herself to do it. "I suppose you'll need to come too then."

Surprise flitted across her fair features. "Me?"

"Well, yes." Gandalf stated as though it was obvious. "Someone will need to look out for Bilbo during the journey. And you would have found a way to follow anyhow."

"Bag End is not quite as entertaining without Bilbo around. I'd find myself bored out of my mind," She chuckled. "Hobbiton doesn't need to be terrorized in my boredom. You'll have to get the King and Mister Balin to draw me up a contract."

"Why don't you convince them then?" Gandalf chuckled back. "I do believe you are the best one for the job."

* * *

"It appears we have lost our burglar." Balin sighed as he watched Mister Baggins retreat through the smial. "Probably for the best. The odds were always against us. After all, what are we? Merchants, miners, tinkers, toy-makers; hardly the stuff of legend."

"There are a few warriors among us." Thorin replied with a pointed look. Balin shook his head sadly.

"Old warriors."

"I will take each and every one of these dwarves over an army from the Iron Hills. For when I called upon them, they came. Loyalty. Honor. A willing heart. I can ask no more than that."

"You don't have to do this." Balin rose to his feet. "You have a choice. You've done honorably by our people. You have built a new life for us in the Blue Mountains, a life of peace and plenty. A life that is worth more than _all_ the gold in Erebor."

"From my grandfather to my father," Thorin held up the key with sad eyes. "This has come to me. They dreamt of the day when the dwarves of Erebor would reclaim their homeland. There is no choice, Balin. Not for me."

"Then we are with you, laddie." Balin straightened, patting Thorin on the shoulder. "We will see it done."

* * *

Sorrel paused in front of Bilbo's door and sighed, lifting her hand to knock on the door. It took several seconds before Bilbo replied.

"Come in."

She pushed open the door and poked her head around, giving the hobbit sympathetic look. "Are you alright?"

"About as well as I can be, I suppose." He answered, staring at his hands. "I am a Baggins of Bag End… this is my home. I can't leave."

"Who are you trying to convince, Bilbo?" Sorrel asked, a serious expression set on her face. This was the first-time Bilbo had seen her like this all night and was much more used to this side of his cousin than the carefree woman who had appeared earlier. "Me…. Or yourself?"

"I…." He had no answer for this and just shrugged.

" _Far over the misty mountains cold, to dungeons deep and caverns old._ " A deep voice drifted in through the open bedroom door and Bilbo looked up. Sorrel had gone as still as a rock, her eyes wide and her mouth parted slightly, awe set deep into her eyes. " _We must away ere break of day, to find our long-forgotten gold._ "

Equally deep humming followed the singing, several voices picking up with the lyrics. Sorrel turned on her heel and stared down the hallway, her hands fisting into her skirts. Bilbo watched with a bit of confusion.

"Excuse me." She murmured, hurrying down the hall.

" _The pines were roaring on the height, the winds were moaning in the night. The fire was red, it flaming spread…. The trees like torches blazed with light._ "

The hums began to trail off.

Bilbo's head jerked up suddenly and his eyes widened when another voice drifted through the smial to his still partly open bedroom door.

" _The mountain smoked beneath the moon; the dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom."_ Several of the hums spluttered out, but there were a few that continued beneath the lilting alto of his cousin, though he knew not how she knew this song. _"They fled their hall to dying fall, beneath his feet, beneath the moon._ "

" _Far over the misty mountains cold,_ " A third voice joined her, a low tenor that rumbled well with Sorrel's voice. Bilbo recognized it as either Kili or Fili, but couldn't identify which. " _To dungeons deep, and caverns old. We must away, ere break of day… to find our long-forgotten gold._ "

The dwarves had joined in with the singing pair, humming deeply beneath their voices. The first singer, the baritone, rumbled out the last line of the song again and the humming trailed away.

This time, no one picked up the haunting tune again. Bilbo stood from where he sat and shut the door.


	3. An Unexpected Contract

Sorrel lifted a hand to knock on her cousin's bedroom door with a sigh, very aware of the somber mood that hung about the sitting room behind her. It took several long seconds before Bilbo answered.

"Come in." He called, his voice muffled from behind the door.

The curly haired hobbit was seated on the side of his bed, staring rather blankly at the wall across from himself. Sorrel gave him a sympathetic look from her spot by the door.

"Are you alright?" She asked, practically already knowing how he would answer. Poor Bilbo Baggins had been subjected to a rather rowdier evening than he'd expected.

"About as well as I can be, I suppose." Bilbo answered, his eyes lifting briefly to hers and then dropping to his hands. "I am a Baggins of Bag End… this is my home. I can't leave."

"Who are you trying to convince, Bilbo?" She frowned at him with serious eyes. "Me… or yourself?"

"I…" Bilbo had no answer for this and just shrugged, avoiding eye contact.

Sorrel observed her cousin carefully, watching as his eyes flickered to-and-fro. She was fairly confident that Bilbo would go on this quest. He just needed a good night's rest.

"Far over the misty mountains cold, to dungeons deep and caverns old."

Bilbo looked up as Sorrel stiffened, her eyes going wide as the deep baritone rumbled through her from down the hall in the sitting room. The notes of the song were melancholy, but familiar to the woman and she listened carefully as the dwarves began the humming accompaniment. She'd not heard this song in decades.

"We must away ere break of day, to find our long-forgotten gold."

Sorrel tangled her hands in her skirt, turning to face down the hall. Part of her yearned to join them, and yet, the other part of her wanted to mind her own business, just go into her room and close the door and cry. She could feel Bilbo's eyes on her back, heavy and curious.

"Excuse me." She murmured, hurrying down the hall before she really knew what she was doing.

"The pines were roaring on the height, the winds were moaning in the night. The fire was red, it flaming spread,"

Sorrel turned the corner and very nearly ran into Bombur, who was still nibbling away at pieces of cheese and bread. He gave her a kind smile, humming deep in his throat.

"The trees like torches blazed with light."

The dwarves began to trail off, most moving back to the chairs that they had occupied earlier. Smoke drifted hazily about the room, trailing from the many lit pipes the dwarves held.

"The mountain smoked beneath the moon," Sorrel's mouth was moving before she realized it. Gandalf turned his head to look over his shoulder at her with a faint smirk on his face. Her eyes closed briefly, hiding from the site of the dwarves, all of whom had looked over at her when she started singing the next verse. "The dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom."

Several of the older dwarves spluttered as she continued, but the others tilted their mouths into smiles and continued. Bombur placed a hand on the small of her back and urged her forward, to stand on the step down into the sitting room. Thorin's harsh eyes watched her carefully.

"They fled their hall to dying fall, beneath his feet, beneath the moon."

"Far over the misty mountains cold," Sorrel's grey-blue eyes jumped to Fili, who faced her with a small smile. Her voice twined with his through the smoke created from pipes clasped in hands around the room. "To dungeons deep, and caverns old."

Thorin joined the pair of singers, his deep baritone rumbling beneath Sorrel's alto and Fili's heady tenor.

"We must away, ere break of day…. To find our long-forgotten gold…."

The dwarrow in the sitting room dropped their humming one-by-one, all staring at the strange woman who lived in a hobbit hole and had barrels of dwarvish ale. Thorin especially looked extremely suspicious.

"You've a lovely voice, lassie." Balin said, quietly interrupting the heavy silence. Sorrel gave a tight smile and took a step backward, hiding her hands in her skirts. The elderly dwarf opened his mouth to say something else, but was interrupted by Thorin, who stepped away from the mantle where he had been leaning and fixed a menacing look on his face.

"Where did you learn that?" He growled. Sorrel blinked at him and folded her hands in front of her.

"Somewhere between Bree and the Brandywine River." She snarked. Her eyes flickered around and then landed on Bifur and Bofur. "Does anyone need blankets? I'll go grab some."

With a flurry of fabric, Sorrel fled back down the hall, skirting around Bombur's impressive girth. The brunette rounded the corner quickly, fleeing to the linen's cupboard. Several deep breaths flew through her lungs as she gathered blankets and duvets into her arms.

The two pairs of footsteps came up behind her were not entirely unexpected.

"Would you like a hand, lass?" Balin's kind voice asked from behind her.

"Have an armful." She replied quietly, turning. Her eyes registered Dwalin's tall form beside his brother, and she thrust the linens into his arms. She dove her hands back into the cupboard for pillows and sheets, avoiding the dwarvish inquisition as much as she could.

"I meant what I said," Balin continued, earning a displeased grunt from Dwalin. "You've a lovely voice."

"Thank you." Sorrel murmured, picking at a loose thread, her back still to the dwarves. Her free arm was pressing several pillows to her chest, fingers tight around the edges.

"Who taught you the song?" Dwalin demanded, likely with eyes narrowed suspiciously. Sorrel dropped her head onto a shelf and sighed heavily before she turned to face the interrogation likely to happen.

"My father taught me when I was young and still lived with him."

"And how did a hobbit learn the song?" The warrior glared at her, looking quite menacing despite the armful of brightly colored blankets in his arms. Balin tsked at his brother but obviously wanted an answer as well.

"A hobbit didn't." Sorrel gathered another armful of pillows and edged around the baffled pair of dwarves. She made towards the sitting room again but was stopped by Bombur, who smiled kindly and shuffled out of the way the best he could.

Sorrel dropped the pillows next to Bifur and Bofur and then fled the sitting room in the opposite direction, past Gandalf, who watched her go with a concern. Thorin was still scowling at the mantle when Balin and Dwalin returned, each bearing an armful of linens.

"Well?" He rumbled as his two closest friends approached.

"Her father taught her." Balin replied, looking gently confused. "But how a hobbit knew our song….it's all very confusing."

Thorin gave a deep acknowledging hum, a scowl crossing his face once more.

"We can put it behind us in the morning." Dwalin suggested, dropping his blankets on top of Fili and Kili, who were wrestling over something on the ground. Two muffled protests sounded from beneath the pile and they fought to get out. "The burglar isn't coming, and his strange cousin can stay here with him in pleasant little Hobbiton. He's no help, and she is just trouble."

"Aye," Balin nodded, placing a hand on Thorin's shoulder. "Best we get some rest. We've a quest to start tomorrow, laddie."

"To bed." Thorin called into the sitting room, noting but not caring about the sudden absence of the wizard.

The dwarves set themselves up for bed, tugging gently at blankets and shucking coats. Soon, the room was filled with rumbling snores.

* * *

Gandalf ducked into the kitchen, making sure to avoid bashing his head yet again. His eyes fell upon Sorrel, who was scrubbing vigorously at the perfectly clean table.

"You're being domestic again, Sorrel Took." She barely nodded, but her hand clenched around the sopping rag she was using.

"There's little in the way of vigorous sparring here in Hobbiton." She replied snappishly as she dropped the rag and lifted her damp hands to her messy hair. Her nose wrinkled as she felt the mess, and she hooked her fingers into the brown ribbon that had kept up her bun most the day.

"No," Gandalf hummed, settling himself on a stool slightly to the side. "Hobbiton is very peaceful."

"Aye."

The pair were silent for several moments, Gandalf puffing away at his pipe and Sorrel threading her fingers through her thick hair.

"You miss it." The wizard stated. Sorrel gave a humorless laugh.

"Do I miss long days of endless traveling, constantly on guard for the things that lurk in shadows, armed to the teeth with my knives and my axes and my sword, seeing all there is to see across Arda? I long for it, Gandalf. I am bored here in Hobbiton." She closed her eyes and pressed her hands flat against the table. "I am an oddity here. I'm too aggressive to be completely accepted into the hobbit lifestyle. There are those that turn their noses up at me…. And I don't care that they do, Gandalf. But I miss when I could look at someone and see respect in their eyes. I'm not a lady or hunter…..I'm a warrior."

"That was a very long-winded way of saying yes." Gandalf commented, earning a chuckle from the woman.

"You like long-winded answers," She scoffed. "They amuse you."

"Very true." The wizard nodded sagely, nibbling on the end of his pipe.

"Bilbo will go with you, Gandalf." Sorrel sank onto the second stool, burying her face in her hands. Her thick hair swung over her shoulders and the Gray Pilgrim caught the flash of silver in her long locks. "And I will be left here to be domestic while he is off on the grand adventure to get Erebor back."

"You've just as much right to go as the rest of them do, including Bilbo Baggins."

"I highly doubt that His Majesty will see it that way." She shook her head and moved to rearrange the dishes set away in their proper places, though they didn't need such fiddling.

"I thought this may happen," Gandalf spoke after he had rustled around in his robes for several minutes. "So I had this written up."

Something plopped onto the table with a solid thud, and Sorrel turned to see what it was that Gandalf had procured. Sitting ever-so-innocently on the table was a thick folded piece of parchment, meant to be sealed with a gray ribbon that was attached carefully to the back. It was worn but in good shape. Sorrel gave Gandalf a confused look and picked up the parchment.

Gandalf looked very smug as she met his eyes over the parchment when she'd skimmed briefly over it.

"Well?"

"Contract of services for bodyguard and assistant?" She asked, lifting one of her eyebrows.

"And you'll find that I require your services to escort Master Baggins….all the way to Erebor." He chuckled. "The basics are summarized in that contract, Miss Took; out-of-pocket expenses, time required, funeral arrangements, so forth."

"Basically the same as my cousins, then? Minus the reward for such a quest?" Sorrel chuckled, a smile gracing her face as she hunted for a pen. Gandalf held one to her and she signed the contract with a flourish.

Gandalf waved a hand over it, and then tucked it back into his robes, patting Sorrel's hands.

"Best you get packing, dear."

* * *

"Hey! Mister Bilbo! Where are you off to?!"

"Can't stop, I'm already late!"

"Late for what?"

"I'm going on an adventure!" Bilbo yelled back to the hobbit who stood in his garden scratching his head.

He was running between two smials when he was suddenly swept off his feet. Letting out a disgruntled squawk, Bilbo threw his arms around whoever had scooped him up.

"I beg your pardon but-"

"You'd better hold on tight, cousin." Bilbo had to do a double-take as Sorrel called over her shoulder, leaning farther down over the pony she'd obviously procured from somewhere. "We're going to go fast."

The scenery blurred by as Bilbo struggled to hold on to Sorrel, who moved fluidly with the pony beneath them. It was Gandalf's hat that Bilbo saw first.

"Wait!" He cried, attempting to get the attention of the dwarves. "Wait!"

Several of the dwarves reined their horses back, turning to look back at the hobbit approaching. Sorrel practically dropped Bilbo to the ground and slowed her pony to a trot as she passed Fili and Kili on her way to Gandalf, flicking a cheeky look in the blond dwarf's direction as she passed. Gandalf nodded to her as she took up the spot on his left, right at the front of the line.

"I signed it!" Bilbo passed the contract up to Balin, who gave the hobbit a stern look and lifted his pocket-glass up to inspect the long contract. Bilbo rocked on his heels and watched Balin's white pony nervously.

"Everything appears to be in order." The elderly dwarf nodded as he folded the contract. "Welcome, Master Baggins, to the company of Thorin Oakensheild."

Several of the dwarves, most of whom had been muttering about 'wastes of time' and 'useless hobbit', let out cheers at the news. Thorin didn't look impressed, scowling heavily at the hobbit, who was nodding at the cheers.

"Give him a pony." The king ordered, turning back to face the front, only to draw to a halt and narrow his eyes at the sight of the befuddling woman. His hand dropped to the hilt of his sword and his back tensed. Dwalin noticed it first, whilst the hobbit babbled in the background.

"No, no, no, no, that – that won't be necessary, thank you, but I-I'm sure I can keep up on foot. I-I-I've done my fair share of walking holidays, you know. I even got as far as Frogmorton once -WAGH!"

The youngest pair of dwarves rolled their eyes and hefted the burglar up by the armpits onto Myrtle, the baggage pony, who was the sturdiest of the lot, save for Bombur's placid mount. The dwarves, one-by-one, had noticed their leader's stiff posture and who he was staring at.

"You've dropped off our burglar," Dwalin grunted as he moved his pony next to his king's. "You can return to Bag End, now."

"I'd rather not." Sorrel wrinkled her nose. Bifur and Bofur shared amused looks at the statement and expression.

"You are to return to your home, at once." Thorin growled, tightening the grip on his sword. Gandalf shook his head and moved his horse towards the dark-haired and highly suspicious dwarf.

"She can't. She's bound by contract." The wizard's lips tilted up in a slight smile, despite the serious look on his face.

"What?" Gloin frowned, entirely confused. "We only wrote one up for the burglar."

"Mhm, yes, you did." The man nodded slowly.

"Gandalf," Thorin spoke slowly, anger obvious to the entire company. "What did you do?"

The gray-robed man pushed his hand into his sleeve and withdrew a thickly folded parchment with a dramatic flourish. Balin moved his mount forward to look at it.

"Contract of services," Balin read out. "For the hire of Bodyguard and Assistant to Gandalf the Grey for the duration of the Quest of Erebor, or in any other role he sees fit, at his sole discretion. Agreed hereto, freely and under neither duress nor force nor coercion nor extortion nor threat to life and/or limb, and superseding any prior contract, agreement or undertaking, survivable clauses notwithstanding, signed and witnessed, as set forth hereunder: I, Sorrel Took, agree to travel with Gandalf the Grey to the Lonely Mountain, under only the orders of the abovementioned."

"Continue." Thorin snarled, eyes fixed on the far-too-smug wizard.

"The aforementioned journey is lead by one Thorin Oakensheild, and any information overheard or told whilst in the midst of the Company of Thorin Oakensheild is agreed to remain strictly confidential, upon pain of torture and/or death. No cash-on-delivery is expected, nor any reward for the signer's services. Basic traveling expenses are to be provided and guaranteed by one Gandalf the Grey. Funeral expenses and/or plans are to be decided upon by Thorin Oakenshield's Burglar, one Bilbo Baggins, upon death. Meals may or may not be provided. Confidentiality is of utmost importance and will be strictly maintained at all times. There will be no early termination of this contract. Disputes will be handled by the signer at her own discretion, and all pleas shall be pleaded, shrewed, defended, answered, debated and judged in the Dwarvish Tongue. The quest undertaken is entirely at her own risk. Thorin Oakenshield's Company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or as consequence thereof; including, but not limited to, evisceration or incineration."

"They've both signed, and no witness is needed." Balin handed Thorin the new contract. The king snatched it away and stared at the affronting parchment for several long seconds. The parchment probably would have set on fire if Thorin had been able to light things with his gaze, for he certainly looked as though he wanted to.

"It's signed with magic." Gandalf harrumphed, snatching it back and tucking it into his robes again. Sorrel leaned against the pommel of her saddle, an eyebrow raised and smirk on her dark lips.

"I'm here to stay, Master Oakenshield." She announced, straightening in her seat. "And one day on this quest, you'll thank me for being here."

"Unlikely." He spat, urging his pony forwards. "Stay out of our way, and with your wizard employer, woman."

"Do not blame me, then," Sorrel called after him cheekily, risking his wrath. "If your Company seeks me out for conversation!"

She and Gandalf allowed several of the older dwarves to pass before dropping next to a highly anxious Bilbo Baggins. His face was set in a terrified expression, and he held the reins of his pony as though they would bite him.

Sorrel held back a laugh and maneuvered around to his other side to help. Her hands reached over as the pony nickered and tossed her head. The woman shook her head and guided Bilbo's fingers into the correct positions, lowering his hands and adjusting his large feet into the stirrups.

"Come on, Nori, pay up! Go on!" Oin called from near the front. Nori huffed and threw a bag of coins over his shoulder at the healer, prompting the tossing of other sacks that jingled and clanked as they hit hands.

"Hey, hey, hey." Oin laughed, eyeing the small pouch with gleaming eyes.

"What's that about?" Bilbo asked, watching the flying money bags.

"Oh, they took wagers on whether or not you'd turn up. Most of them bet that you wouldn't." Gandalf informed the awkwardly seated hobbit. Sorrel nodded understandingly.

"Typical, really. I'd have bet too if I'd been here when they started."

"What did you think?" The curly haired hobbit asked the wizard, ignoring his cousin's small comment.

"Hmm." Gandalf's hand shot up just in time to catch a pouch of money hurled at him by Gloin. "My dear fellow, I never doubted you for a second."

Sorrel chuckled when her cousin sneezed loudly and rubbed his nose.

"Oh. All this horse hair, I'm having a reaction." Bilbo's hand reached into his pocket, and his brows furrowed as he patted down his red traveling jacket. "No, no, wait, wait! Stop! We have to turn around!"

The woman sighed heavily and turned her eyes to the sky as she shook her head.

"What on earth is the matter?" Gandalf asked, bushy eyebrows vanishing under his wide-brimmed hat.

"I forgot my handkerchief." Bilbo announced, just as Sorrel had predicted he would.

"Here!" Bofur called, ripping a piece of his ragged tunic off and tossing it back. "Use this."

Bilbo fumbled for the piece of rough fabric and held it with just his fingertips, his expression one of disgust. The dwarves let out laughs, and turn back when Thorin calls for them to move on.

"You'll have to manage without pocket-handkerchiefs and a good many other things, Bilbo Baggins, before we reach our journey's end. You were born to the rolling hills and little rivers of the Shire, but home is now behind you; the world is ahead." Gandalf lectured as they exited the small forest bordering the shire. "You can pick up a couple in Bree if you find it necessary. I expect we'll stop there for some supplies and a hot meal before our long journey."

Bilbo caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to his cousin, who's hand was held out in a flippant manner that he wasn't unused to. In her hand, dancing with the light breeze was one of his monogrammed handkerchiefs, creased from it's ironed folding still and pristine white.

"I grabbed one from the drawer before I left this morning." She informed him blasely, thrusting it towards him. Bilbo took it delicately and wiped his running nose, curling his fingers around the familiar fabric with a smile as he turned his head to face his cousin.

Sorrel glanced at him from the corner of her eyes, and her mouth tilted up in a smile.

"You've a drawer," Kili interrupted the familiar moment. "Just for handkerchiefs?"

"Yes." Bilbo nodded, a bit miffed at the question. "Of course, I do!"

"You've got a drawer for your trousers, don't you?" Sorrel asked, turning her head back to face the brunet dwarf. "They are essential to every part of your day. Such, handkerchiefs are likewise important to hobbits; you'll rarely see one without one tucked away in a pocket."

"Oh." Kili hummed, urging his pony forwards. "Well, that makes sense then. Where do you keep yours?"

"I don't." She replied with a casual shrug of her shoulders, making Bilbo shake his head and wipe his nose again.

"Oh. Why not?"

"Because I find it a waste of space for other important things," She replied, a hand drifting to her pocket and tugging out the hilt of a weapon. "Like knives."

Bilbo made a face, but her admission gathered the attention of the other dwarves around her. Several drifted closer to hear more.

"Hobbits don't normally carry weapons, do they?" Balin asked, glancing at Thorin and Dwalin ahead.

"A traveling cheese knife, perhaps, or a decorative dagger." Sorrel replied, tucking her revealed knife away and straightening. "But it's very uncommon for hobbits to carry any weapon unless you happen to be one of the more adventurous Tooks."

"My mother carried a weapon." Bilbo mused aloud. "I never found out what happened to it."

"She was buried with it," Sorrel informed him bluntly. "I thought you knew that."

"How do hobbits bury their dead?" Ori asked innocently, earning a hard nudge from one of his brothers. "Ow! Sorry."

"Hobbits aren't like dwarves," Gandalf assured the group. "They're very open to sharing their culture. I'm sure Bilbo would be happy to answer any questions you have. Sorrel, come here a moment please."

The dark-haired woman urged her pony forward, leaving her cousin to the mercy of Ori's questions about hobbit mannerisms and festivals.

"Gandalf?" She tilted her head at the wizard, curious as to what he wanted.

"I think perhaps," The old man murmured quietly. "That fresh game wouldn't go unwelcome tonight."

"If that's what you wish." She chuckled, reaching for her unloaded bow and the quiver she had strapped to the rump of her sleek dark-haired pony. "Any requests."

"I do love rabbit stew for the first meal of a quest."

"I'll see what I can find, Your Wizardness." She winked and went about carefully stringing her bow.

* * *

"What are you up to?" Bofur asked his cousin, who's normally erratic movements had stilled substantially since the burglar had shown up several hours ago.

"Itred.(Watching)" The dwarf replied, turning a small chunk of wood round and round in his fingers.

"Ah." Bofur nodded, turning his eyes to the woman, who sat alert in her saddle, bow at the ready and two plump rabbits tied to her baggage. "Quite a sight, she is."

"Dai bifrul. (She's familiar)" Bifur grunted. Bofur turned to watch the woman again, observing the features in her face and the way she held herself more carefully.

"You're right, Bifur." Bofur muttered, reaching for his pipe. "She does look a bit familiar."

"She's very…..dwarvish," Dori, who'd been riding just slightly behind the pair, interjected. "Especially her mannerisms."

"She's got pierced ears." Bofur replied. "With cuffs like Dwalin's. I don't know many who have those, but none of the hobbits I've seen ever even had piercings."

"She's quite the enigma." Balin turned his head back towards them. "She told my brother and I that her father taught her the Song of the Lonely Mountain…."

"But?" Dori raised an eyebrow, frowning as Nori playfully snatched something from Ori.

"But when we asked why a hobbit knew the Song," Balin frowned here, watching as the woman moved to Gandalf and laughed at something he said. "She said that a hobbit didn't."

"We could just ask her, you know." Bofur pointed out, throwing his thumb over his shoulder in her direction.

"That's rude!" Dori cried, looking terribly affronted. "We barely know her! You can't just ask someone something so…. Personal!"

With several grumbles from the small conversing group, they agreed to leave it be and drifted apart .

* * *

The first couple of days of the quest were a bit tense for Bilbo. He was traveling with dwarves, to a mountain all the way across Arda to steal from a dragon, and he had willingly agreed to do this. It really hit him the second night, when he staggered off his pony into the camp and almost collapsed upon his bedroll.

He was very much out of his element.

Bilbo's eyes zeroed in on his cousin, who was seated with Bifur, Bofur, and Bofur near Gandalf, discussing something enthusiastically. He'd not paid much attention to her that first day, in far too much of a daze to do much but try to stay on his pony and think about how excited he was.

Sorrel seemed so comfortable here, her posture so much more relaxed than it had ever been in Hobbiton and she moved through the camp and the Company with so much ease. He didn't know much about where she'd gone in the four decades she'd left Hobbiton, and he barely knew her before then, as he'd been only eleven when she'd left. She and his mother had been friends before Sorrel had left, seeing as there was only an eight-year difference between the two.

The brunette woman laughed loudly at something Bofur said, and Bilbo's eyes flicked up and down to check her over. She was really the only close family he had left, and he liked to know she was safe.

Sorrel was seated on a log next to Bifur, one of her legs stretched out in front of her and the other drawn up so that she could rest her arm on it. While it wasn't unusual to see Sorrel dressed in pants or leggings, having them not under a knee-length tunic was a change that Bilbo wasn't sure he was used to. Her dark brown leggings, warm and durable, were tucked into sturdy knee-high boots that were trimmed with fur and likely housed a knife or two. Her torso was hidden beneath a jacket that Bilbo had only ever seen once when Sorrel had arrived at his door following a series of letters.

The material was heavy and dark brown falling to her knees with barely a movement. The material was slick but soft, and waterproof and it wrapped around her arms perfectly to allow the ease of movement. The most impressive feature of the jacket was the collar of fur attached around the neckline and shoulders. The silvery-grey fur was also waterproof and very warm, and entirely suiting of Sorrel with her wolf-like eyes. She'd hunted the wolf that made her fur collar, using it line her boots and for her coat collar, before selling the remaining pelt.

Bilbo had loved the coat that hung at the end of her bed for the months she'd been living with him, but seeing her wearing it was another story altogether. She and the coat belonged to one another, and as odd as that sounded, it was true. Her coat was like his handkerchief, he mused, or how that Bombur fellow always had a large iron ladle with him.

"Something wrong, cousin?" Bilbo jolted out of his thoughts and looked up, blinking at Sorrel, who stood over him with a smirk, her hand resting casually on her sword.

"No, no." He assured. "Just thinking."

"Head to bed, Bilbo." She chuckled, patting him on the head. "You look tired."

"I will…" he muttered, brushing her hands away with a pout. Sorrel rolled her eyes at him and headed back to the Ur family, who had pulled out their pipes. The hobbit noted the glare that Thorin fixed her with, but didn't dare move from his bedroll, knowing that he would be on the other end of that glare if he did.

With a heavy sigh, Bilbo rolled over and buried himself in his blankets, falling asleep quickly to the combination of the crackling fire and the carefree laughter of his cousin.


	4. An Unexpected King

The days passed by quickly enough, and soon they'd been on the road for almost three weeks. Casual conversation was made between the hobbits who had joined the company and the wizard, and some between the hobbit-lass and the dwarves. She and the Ur family spoke the most, usually around dinner time and before bed. There were little in the way of watches, for the road between Hobbiton and Bree was relatively safe for a Company of such as size, and being dwarves they would either be left alone or attack vigorously for valuables in broad daylight.

Gandalf often rode at the front of the line with the hobbit-lass talking quietly about this or that. She'd provided Bombur with a group of fine fat rabbits the first day and had sparked a bit of competition between herself and Kili, who was the resident bow user.

It was when they'd settled down for dinner that Gandalf made the announcement.

"We're nearing Bree." The wizard said loudly, and then spooned up a mouthful of stew. Sorrel rolled her eyes at his action, but what he had said garnered the attention of the dwarves.

"When will we get there?" Kili asked, looking excited at the prospect of a hot room and a bed.

"Tomorrow evening," Thorin replied, glancing at his nephews. "We stop in Bree for two nights and then move on."

"Two nights?" Gloin fixed Thorin with a hard look. "Who's to say that an inn will have enough rooms to accommodate us?"

"Send the wizard and the woman on ahead." Dwalin nodded to the pair, who sat close to the fire but out of the way of the dwarves. "Have them secure rooms for us."

"Send us ahead?" Gandalf lifted one of his bushy eyebrows and nibbled the end of his pipe like he was prone to. "Excellent idea. The two of us will leave at dawn."

* * *

The sun's light was just touching the darkness of night when Gandalf roused Sorrel, who was wide awake instantly with a hand on her knife. The wizard chuckled quietly and gestured for her to follow. Sorrel quickly put away her bedroll and saddled her Shire-pony to follow Gandalf and his white steed.

The pair nodded to Nori, who sat on a relaxed watch, and then mounted up and spurred the two mounts forward. The wizard and the hobbit-lass rode together in companionable silence, enjoying the way the world seemed to wake. Knowing the dwarves, they wouldn't set out until mid-morning and their convoy of baggage and pony would move much slower than the two they'd sent ahead.

Gandalf made a humming noise in the back of his throat and turned to look at the woman. She glanced at him and adjusted her coat against the morning chill on the back of her neck.

"They are starting to wonder about you," Gandalf spoke, watching the surrounding land instead of her.

"I know. They're not exactly quiet about it." She snorted, running her hands through her still loose hair. Frowning, Sorrel twisted to pull a comb from her pack and set about brushing her mane of dark brown. Gandalf watched from the corner of his eye as she swiftly braided parts of her hair and then tied the top part of her mane back to keep it out of her face. The two braids she'd put in got caught up in this half-tail and the two silver beads she'd placed on the ends bounced against the back of her head.

Gandalf, cheeky wizard that he was, chuckled at the woman, who gave him a look as though to ask him 'What are you laughing at now?'.

"How long has it bothered you, Sorrel?" He asked, nodding to her hair. "Not having your hair braided amongst company?"

"It has been driving me mad." She replied, touching the braids. "But privacy is hard to come by in a group of males, and it is certainly hard to braid one's hair with only one family member, and a hobbit one at that."

The pair shared exasperated looks and then focused forward again. Having traveled together before, Gandalf and Sorrel easily fell into quiet for several hours during which Bree grew steadily closer. Sorrel's nose wrinkled at the smell that wafted on the breeze that blew their way.

Bree wasn't the cleanest of towns, despite the traffic it generated. The many inns and their adjoining stables provided an abundance of feces that always, somehow, ended up mixed with the mud generated by the churning feet of the residents of Bree. The stench of this was always accompanied by the smell of hot metal and smoke, something Sorrel was fond of. Gandalf seemed unaffected by the smell, but frowned at the image of Bree when they rounded the road.

The gates were open but guarded by a pair of rough looking men in dirty tunics and trousers. Their hands went casually to their swords when they saw the pair and frowns spread across their faces.

"Halt." The older one called, stepping to block a portion of the gateway. "What's yer business here?"

"My companion and I," Gandalf replied, peering from under the brim of his hat. "Have been sent ahead by our Company to acquire rooms for two nights. They'll be along in a couple of hours, I suspect."

"Right. And who are you?" The other guard nudged his younger, more outspoken, companion.

"Why, I'm Gandalf. Gandalf the Grey." The wizard drew himself up and frowned at the young guard, who grimaced and stepped aside.

"Sorry, sir."

The wizard nodded at the pair and gestured for Sorrel to follow.

* * *

The dwarves arrived just when they thought they would, just as the sun started setting below the horizon. They arrived, not to the sight of the wizard as they expected, but the hobbit-lass. She was leaning against the wall near the gate and speaking in quiet tones with the old guard who stood there.

"This is them, sir." Sorrel pushed off the wall and nodded to the dwarves. "Thank you for the company."

"Anytime, lass. Don't forget to check the bakery for those buns."

She nodded with a smile and strode toward the group of mounted dwarves.

"Well?" Thorin snapped at her. Sorrel scowled at the leader of the company and nodded. The dwarves held back several chuckles when she marched past him to his nephews and swung herself up behind Fili. Bofur snorted at the look on the blond's face, wide-eyed and a bit nervous. The miner had seen the lass slip her arms beneath him and smoothly snatch the reins from his hands, which hovered now over hers with no idea what to do with them.

"This way." She announced without sparing the king a look and urging the prince's horse forward. Bofur and Kili followed the two with amused looks and the other dwarves fell in line behind them; Thorin with a hard glare on the woman's clean and pulled back hair.

His glare flickered with confusion for only a second when he caught the flash of silver in her hair, but brushed it away.

Sorrel loosened her grip on the reins and nudged Fili with her elbow.

"Fili?"

The blond turned his head to look over his fur-clad shoulder, meeting her grey-blue eyes. Something about the way she looked at him made Fili squirm; on the inside, of course, princes did not squirm in front of ladies.

"Yes, Miss Took?"

She frowned at him and rolled her eyes, lifting her hands to thrust the reins back into his. "Guide us to the Prancing Pony, please."

Fili jumped when she drew her hands back and settled her arms around his waist.

"You can't do it?" The prince teased, turning his head to face the front with a smirk.

"Well," Sorrel scoffed playfully, nudging him through his coat. "In case you didn't notice, I am quite a bit shorter than you. I can't quite see over your broad shoulders, your Highness."

Fili stiffened a bit at the jab to his status and flicked his eyes back at her again. "You know then?"

"I'm not stupid." Sorrel chuckled and her eyes dropped to the braids that lay either side of his head, adorned with the royal beads. Fili furrowed his brows and turned to face the front again.

They'd traversed quicker than he'd thought they had because just up ahead he could see Gandalf leaning on his staff beneath a sign of a rearing horse. Sorrel's arms vanished from around his waist and he frowned, watching as she leaped to the muddy ground and barely faltered at the spray of filth that flew up around her feet.

"Found them, Gandalf." She called, striding quickly towards them. "Didn't get lost twice this time."

The wizard laughed at her jab to Thorin and gestured her inside into the warmth. The sun had nearly set and the roads of Bree were shadowed. Thorin scowled at the surroundings, disliking having to be back in this backwater trading town longer than he had to.

"We've gotten six rooms to share between us, and the barkeep is stocked with ale and mead." The wizard announced. "The stables have enough stalls for all our ponies. Shall we all head inside for a hot meal and something to drink?"

* * *

Dwarves, by nature, were rowdy when drinking and when in large companies such as the one Sorrel and Bilbo were traveling with. Sorrel, however, had practically abandoned the dwarves at their table after shoveling some food into her mouth in favor of a small group of well-dressed hobbits with small daggers at their belts.

She and her temporary companions were laughing loudly, throwing their heads back and tossing bits of bread at each other. Bilbo ignored the happenings until one of the hobbits near the bar climbed on top of his stool, almost immediately making Sorrel and the group she was with perk up. Bilbo groaned, dropping his head into his arms.

Several of the dwarves gave the Baggins a brief look before curiously focusing on the standing hobbit.

"Oh, you can search far and wide," The hobbit sang, and was quickly joined by the other hobbits in the room. "You can drink the whole town dry, but you'll never find a beer so brown,"

"Oh, you'll never find a beer so brown," Echoed a male hobbit who had been seated on the other side of the bar.

"As the one we drink in our hometown, as the one we drink in our hometown."

Bilbo risked a quick glance back at his cousin and then dropped his face into his arms again. Sorrel was grinning ear to ear and singing loudly along with the Prancing Pony's hobbit guests.

"You can drink your fancy ales, you can drink them by the flagon, but the only brew for the brave and true…Comes from the Green Dragon!"

One of the hobbits sitting with Sorrel leaped to his feet as the first song came to a finish to begin another. "Hey Ho, to the bottle I go to heal my heart and drown my woe! Rain may fall and wind may blow but there'll still be many miles to go! Sweet is the sound of the pouring rain and the stream that falls from hill to plain. Better than rain or rippling brook,"

Here, the hobbits in Sorrel's company all point at her, prompting a loud laugh as she proudly stood and brandished whatever she was drinking.

"Is a mug of beer inside this Took!"

"Is your cousin always this rowdy?" Nori asked Bilbo, looking highly amused at the proceedings. Bilbo peered up at the dwarf with the tri-coned hair and then looked back at his cousin, grimacing as she pelted one of the others again and covered her mug to prevent the bread thrown back from going in.

"Honestly," Bilbo sighed, sitting up straight and brushing off his shirt. "It seems more and more likely the more I see her out of Bag End."

"Why were you hiding then?" Ori asked from the other side of Nori. Bilbo flushed and spluttered, patting his vest down.

"Hi-hiding!? I beg your pardon, but I was not hiding!" The hobbit babbled. Dori, who sat across from his two brothers, fixed Bilbo with a look. "Alright, I was. But not from her."

"Who were you hiding from then?" Ori asked curiously, poking at the small pieces of broccoli on his plate.

"Them. The others." Bilbo waved a hand over his shoulder. Dori looked past his brothers and smiled.

"Well, you aren't doing a very good job then."

"Cousin!" Sorrel cried, dropping her arms over Bilbo's shoulders with a large grin. "You haven't come said hello to the others!"

"May I ask, Miss Took," Dori spoke up, watching with amusement. "Who are your companions?"

"Ah! Yes, those are some of our Took cousins; Fortinbras, Adalgrim, Flambard and Sigismond. They've just returned from one of the northern hobbit towns." Sorrel grinned and then peered down at Bilbo with amusement. "One would think you're trying to avoid them, Bilbo Baggins. Come say hello to our family!"

"No, no!" Bilbo protested, even as she heaved him from his seated position and started pulling him away. "I couldn't impose. I mean really, you look like your having such a lovely time and-"

Nori snickered as the Baggins' voice faded away and outright laughed as the other Tooks embraced Bilbo roughly despite his proffered hand.

"Poor Mister Baggins." Ori murmured, sending Nori into chortles.

"Eat your greens, Ori." Dori reprimanded, half-paying attention. Ori pouted but did as he was told, gagging as he did so.

* * *

Bilbo was still pouting when Sorrel woke up the next morning in the room the two hobbits and the wizard shared. Gandalf was long gone by the time she was up, pushing long strands of brown hair out of her face and yawning obnoxiously. Bilbo grumbled something but didn't wake.

Sorrel threw back the sheets and pulled her pack closer with her feet from where it sat at the end of her bed. Wrestling a pair of leggings and clean tunic out, she glanced once at Bilbo and then took a quick look at the door, throwing caution to the wind and shucking off yesterday's clothes. Her Took cousins had kept her up quite late last night, and she hadn't bothered to change for bed except to take off her boots.

Quickly, fighting the chilled air in the room, she pulled on the pair of tight black leggings and then tugged socks and her boots on. She was lifting her tunic from its spot on the bed when the door swung open.

"Miss Too-" The dwarf's words were cut off with a girly shriek and the shuffling of Bilbo, who pulled a pillow over his head, but otherwise didn't move. Sorrel slid from the bed with her clean tunic in hand, blinking at the dwarf who was fumbling to not look at her and trying to stand from his startled fall to the floor.

"I am so sorry!" Kili cried as Sorrel fixed him with an amused look that clearly said " _What-the-blazes-idiot_ ". "I-I was coming to wake you and M-mister Baggins and I had no idea you were in such a state of undress! Oh, Mahal! I'm sorry, please forgive me! I didn't mean to-"

Steps hammered on the landing outside her room, preceding the bulky body of Dwalin, who burst into the room with a hand on one of his many knives. He skidded to a halt behind Kili, who was still apologizing and had now taken up bowing so low his hair touched the floor. Dwalin's wary eyes scanned the room quickly, and he scowled at the lack of danger.

Sorrel, who had continued to dress, watched Dwalin's expression from behind the loose curtain of her dark hair, lacing up the top of her tunic collar. The warrior's eyes went from Bilbo's sleeping figure to Sorrel, who shrugged good-naturedly as she laced up a leather vest tightly over her abdomen and bosom.

"-it was so dishonorable! I'm so sorry, Miss Took!" Kili continued to blather on. Dwalin's mouth drew down into a hard line, and his jaw clenched beneath his beard.

Then, to Sorrel's immense surprise, Dwalin started laughing. Deep and loud, bending to slap the thighs, full body guffawing. Kili immediately shut up, staring at the massive warrior in shock. Sorrel, watching this massive warrior struggle to breathe through his laughter, let out a couple of chuckles.

Kili, his head whipping quickly between the two laughing Company members, turned as red as Bilbo's prized tomatoes and fled from the room. Dwalin wiped away a few tears quickly and then nodded with a slight smirk to Sorrel, who by now was fully dressed and armed, before leaving her to finish with her morning routine.

Bilbo snuffled something in his sleep, making Sorrel shake her head as she closed her pack and tucked it slightly under the bed. She crept quietly across the room and closed the wide-open door behind her.

* * *

Bree had lovely weather that day, even with the hovering layer of pale gray clouds in the sky. Sorrel had joined Gloin and Oin on their outing into Bree, quietly telling the red-haired dwarf that she knew where to get some of the best deals on large quantities of supplies. He agreed to bring her along so long as she didn't dally at shops like his wife did. Oin tagged along behind the pair, muttering to himself about different herbs he should consider while fingering his hearing trumpet.

Bree hadn't changed much in the few years since she'd last passed through. She nodded cordially at the people she recognized but kept a brisk pace into the depths of the market. Gloin kept pace with her, sometimes dragging his brother away from stalls by the arm.

"The stall just ahead, Master Gloin." Sorrel gestured to a bustling stall with an awning of brilliant red. "That's where you'll find your man. Mention me during your negotiations, you'll get a better deal."

"And where will you be going?" The red-headed dwarrow asked, partially suspicious.

"I'm going to show Oin where the apothecary is, and then I think I'll make a quick stop into the blacksmith nearby. We won't be long, and just a way down this road."

"That's very kind of you, dear." Oin gave his brother a pat on the arm and bustled in the direction she had nodded. Gloin narrowed his eyes but strode towards the red awning. Sorrel followed Oin, directing him into the apothecary, with a fond wave to the owner, who hurried to help the elderly dwarf with his various wares.

Sorrel herself continued into the blacksmith, head held high and a slight smirk playing around her lips. Heat radiated from the shop despite it's partially opened front windows, and the door swung open with only a slight creak.

"Just a moment!" A man called from the back of the shop, followed by a heavy thump and a badly muffled curse. Sorrel snorted, leaning against the shop's small front desk with an amused look.

From the back of the smithy, a man emerged, limping slightly, and pushing his dirty blond hair away from his face. His eyes swiftly moved over the shop and then dropped down to where she was standing.

"I thought we told you to pull your hair back, Jorah." Sorrel remarked, pushing away from the desk. Jorah's face, which had lit up when he'd seen her, fell immediately and he shuffled his feet like a scolded child. "Idiot."

"Sorry, ma'am."

Sorrel aimed a kick for his unprotected shin and he danced away with a faint grin.

"How are you? How's the shop doing?"

"Everything is fine, Miss Sorrel." Jorah shook his head and gestured for her to follow him around the other side of the desk. "Orders are coming in at a consistent rate, and I'm considering taking an apprentice. I'm almost getting too many orders to keep up with."

"Good, good. And you're doing the books like I showed you, right?"

"Yes. Your father's shop is safe." Jorah assured her, glancing over at the small picture he'd hung on the wall.

"Excellent." Sorrel nodded, leafing through the books with a critical eye before she turned back to Jorah. "I'd like to look at the weapons I left last time I was here."

"They're exactly where you left them, nobody has touched them." Jorah pointed to a dusty looking trunk in the corner of the shop. "I've got a sword I need to repair, so you know where I'll be if you need me."

Sorrel gave a sharp nod and the pair separated. The trunk in the corner was not overly elaborate nor fancy, but it was highly functional and showed little sign of wear. The dark wood was sanded smooth to the touch, and the hinges and clasps were all made of hammered iron. It swung open smoothly when Sorrel snapped up the clasps.

The chest was lined with a wool blanket to protect the small cache of weapons inside, most of which were familiar to the woman. She sifted through them carefully, wary of blades without sheaths. Sorrel was mentally taking inventory of her cache, strapping the various knives and daggers onto herself, when the door opened.

The brunette hobbit-lass didn't look up from the straps she was fixing to her thigh, assuming that whoever was here wasn't someone she knew.

"This is the cleanest blacksmith I've ever seen!" Bofur's cheerful voice exclaimed. Sorrel's head snapped up to see the Ur family hovering by the door with curious eyes.

"Thank you." Sorrel replied to the hatted dwarf, cinching the strap a little tighter and then lowering her leg from where she'd propped it on the edge of the chest.

Bifur grunted and crossed his arms, shuffling into the blacksmith to poke at the few blunt daggers on display. Bombur waddled after his cousin to keep an eye on the strange dwarf.

Bofur, however, sauntered over to see what Sorrel was doing. He peered curiously into the chest and his eyebrows rose. "That's a lot of weapons."

"I know. They're all mine." She said, a smug tone coloring her voice as she shoved another dagger into her boot and then lifted a pair of well-made bracers from the pile. She placed them on the edge of the trunk and tugged her old simple leather bracers off her arms, pulling the lacing with her teeth.

"You'll be armed more than Fili." Bombur murmured when he and Bifur joined the two Company members in the corner. Sorrel snorted.

"I doubt that." Bofur nudged his brother, smirking slightly.

" _Gamekh_." Bifur announced, getting confused looks from Bombur and Sorrel, who had extended her arm to Bofur to get his help tying up her bracer.

"Five? Five what?" Bombur furrowed his ginger brows. Bifur rolled his eyes and rubbed his fingers together with a slight smirk.

"Five gold?" Bofur guessed. "On who?"

" _Diya_." Bifur pointed to Sorrel. Bofur nodded.

"I'll put five on Fili then."

"What are you guys doing here anyway?" Sorrel asked as she reached for the last set of knives, which she examined curiously. "Not that I don't enjoy your company."

"We saw you come in and wanted to say hello!" Bofur grinned, shutting the lid of the trunk for her. "Hello!"

"Hello, Ur's." She chuckled, adjusting her wolf fur-trimmed coat around herself. "How are you enjoying Bree?"

"It's interesting," Bofur leaned against the trunk, looking around the blacksmith. "Bigger than the last time we were here. This smith was smaller too."

"Miss Sorrel!" Jorah called from the back, emerging with a streak of soot on his cheek. "I'm going to head home for lunch with my lady love….and there are people here."

"You know each other?" Bofur asked, looking between the man and the hobbit-woman.

"She's my boss!" Jorah grinned, tidying the front desk a little as he waited to usher them all out. Sorrel glanced at the dwarves who all turned to look at her, shrugging.

"This was my father's shop before he died. I inherited it, and Jorah runs it for me." Sorrel explained, heading for the door. "I was born here in Bree, and I lived the first couple of years here too. Jorah has been running this place for what, five years now?"

"That's right." Jorah nodded, pulling his jacket on and heading for the door. "I don't like kicking people out, but my lady love doesn't like it when I'm late."

"Bye Jorah." Sorrel nodded as she hurried out the door, the Ur's behind her. They followed her down to the apothecary, where Oin was finishing a conversation with the old man who ran the place. He held an extra bag that was obviously filled with dried plants and vials. The older dwarf bid farewell to his new acquaintance and followed the group to go get Gloin, who was waiting with a very pleased expression on his face.

* * *

The Company didn't linger in Bree, leaving in a quiet flurry the morning after their second night. Kili managed to avoid looking at both Sorrel and Dwalin, resolutely sticking to his brother's side. Bilbo had managed to find several well-made handkerchiefs and a warmer bedroll, and he was quite pleased with himself.

With the ponies rested, Thorin's Company made excellent time along the East-West Road and managed to make it to Weathertop as the sun was lowering on the third day. The dwarves were quick to get a fire and dinner started and equally as quick to fall into their bedrolls. Thorin had pushed them all hard that day.

Gandalf was leaning against a rock, deep in thought while he puffed on his pipe. Fili and Kili were conversing quietly while the brunet prince carved a small piece of wood. The other dwarves were in various states of sleep; Gloin was snoring deeply and in the process, was inhaling several tiny flying insects. Sorrel was seated between Gandalf and the two princes, keeping an eye on her cousin while she polished her bow.

Bilbo himself watched Gloin with disgust, shuffling his way out of his bedroll and patting his bulging pocket with little discretion. Sorrel watched from the corner of her eye as he headed over to his pony, Myrtle, and held out an apple for her. Thankfully, Bilbo had taken well to his pony and the quick lessons she gave him when she noticed him struggling.

A scream wretched the peaceful air and instantly most the dwarves were on alert. Bilbo scurried over to the prices, checking their surroundings nervously. Sorrel placed her bow with her pack and moved closer to her cousin, fingering one of her blades.

"What was that?" Bilbo asked, his eyes darting back and forth.

"Orcs." Kili replied. Another scream echoed towards them.

"Orcs?" Bilbo gulped. Sorrel narrowed her eyes, scanning the cliffs opposite their camp. Thorin jerked awake at the second scream with wide eyes.

"Throat-cutters." Fili added, taking his pipe from his mouth. "There'll be dozens of them out there. The lowlands are crawling with them."

"They strike in the wee small hours when everyone's asleep. Quick and quiet; no screams, just lots of blood." Kili continued quietly.

Bilbo whimpered quietly, looking away from the pair and Sorrel pushed herself to her feet taking her bow and quiver with her. The hobbit shuffled towards his cousin, who nodded at him slowly, her wolf-like eyes scanning the horizon.

The princes shared a look and began to laugh, ducking their heads with mischievous snickers. Sorrel narrowed her eyes but didn't look away from the horizon. Gandalf watched her, puffing on his pipe, but didn't make to stand.

"You think that's funny?" Thorin hissed regally at his nephews. "You think a night raid by orcs is a joke?"

"We didn't mean anything by it." Kili's hands fell still and he looked away from his uncle.

"No, you didn't." Thorin strode away from them. "You know nothing of the world."

From the corner of her eye, Sorrel watched as Balin lifted himself to his feet and moved to where the two prices sat, leaning his arm against the stone over Fili's head.

"Don't mind him, laddie. Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs." He sighed, age showing in his eyes. "After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain, King Thror tried to reclaim the ancient dwarf kingdom of Moria. But our enemy had gotten there first."

Bilbo moved closer to hear the story, but Sorrel moved in the opposite direction, towards Gandalf and the King with No Mountain.

"Moria had been taken by legions of Orcs lead by the vilest of all their race: Azog the Defiler. The giant Gundabad Orc had sworn to wipe out the line of Durin. He began by beheading the King. Thrain, Thorin's father, was driven mad by grief. He went missing, taken prisoner or killed, we did not know. We were leaderless. Defeat and death were upon us. That is when I saw him: a young dwarf prince facing down the Pale Orc. He stood alone against this terrible foe, his armor rent, wielding nothing but an oaken branch as a shield."

"Azog the Defiler learned that day that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken. Our forces rallied and drove the orcs back. Our enemy had been defeated. But there was no feast, no song, that night…. For our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few had survived. And I thought to myself then, there is one who I could follow. There is one I could call King."

Thorin, who Sorrel had been observing, turned away from the view beyond the cliff to face the entire Company, who were all awake and standing in awe, staring at the King. Sorrel inclined her head to the regal dwarf, earning one in return as he walked between those standing towards the fire.

"But the pale orc?" Bilbo asked after a moment of silence. "What happened to him?"

"He slunk back into the hole whence he came." Thorin spat, scowling. "That filth died of his wounds long ago."

Sorrel's eyes caught the look between Gandalf and Balin but chose to ignore it, returning her gaze to view beyond the cliff.

"Back to bed, all of you." Thorin called after a moment, sending the dwarves into a flurry of movement. "We have had a long day tomorrow; I want to cross the River."

The dwarves all headed back to bed, followed by Bilbo, who shifted his bed roll slightly closer to the fire and the dwarves who slept there. Sorrel scanned the cliff opposite once more and then turned back to the camp.

"Something out there?" Gandalf murmured to her as she passed.

"I thought there was." She replied. "But my eyes are not elven, and it is very dark. Keep an eye out Gandalf."

He nodded with a deep hum watching as his glorified assistant bedded down for the night, keeping all her weapons within arms reach and covering herself with her lovely coat instead of tucking herself into the bedroll beneath her.

* * *

 **Hello, readers. It has been a while since I have updated, this chapter was a bit difficult for me, but I hope you enjoy it.**

 **Sakura Lisel: You make an excellent point about the pantry and demanding money from them, but hobbits are far too well-mannered to demanded anything from anyone, especially someone like Bilbo Baggins.**

 **Sketchbananafairy: I'm glad you like it so far.**

 **Guest: Thank you**

 **Katzztar: While I do know that Dwarves aren't considered Big Folk, Bilbo is a hobbit, so everyone is a Big Folk to a hobbit. You are right, Sorrel is about the same age as Fili. Sorrel matured a bit faster than a dwarf, but she takes after her dwarvish parent more than her hobbit one. I will have to go back and fix that mistake about the dwarf parent actually came from Erebor, which isn't too much of a spolier.**

 **Emy265: I'm glad you enjoy it!**

 **wolfimus prime: I want her coat.**

 **Guest 2: I am glad you like this story, and I'm glad you think Sorrel is great (and badass). These dwarves aren't the smartest bunch, but it will come out soon.**

 **Sophia Kaiba: Have some more!**

 **Guest 3: Here is more.**

 **IsraAl'Attia-Theron: Feisty heroines are the best. You are correct in your assumption.**

 **Phoenix-Rising29: I'm glad you are enjoying this!**


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